


Roach's Epic Adventure

by orphan_account



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Awesome Roach (The Witcher), Gen, Is it crack? Yeah, M/M, Matchmaker Roach (The Witcher), POV Roach (The Witcher), Roach Ships It (The Witcher), Roach is So Done (The Witcher), Roach is the Best (The Witcher), Shapeshifting, Tagging as I go, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:27:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24906067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Roach is the lead in a trio consisting of a sleep-deprived bard and the oversized wolf that will not stop stalking them. Together they must work to find their Witcher and defeat an evil mage.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Roach, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Roach
Comments: 109
Kudos: 228





	1. I Did Not Fall, I Attacked the Ground

**Author's Note:**

> Roach is done with this bullshit. She walked too far and carried too many monster heads to die alone at the bottom of a fucking ravine while Geralt of Riva is off doing who knows what. Ungrateful motherfucker.

Yes, it looked bad, but absolutely none of it was Roach's fault, so that was a plus. The stupid mage was the one who attacked them, and with nowhere to go, it was impossible to get out the way of his powerful push. That had been some time ago though time had lost all sense of meaning to the downed horse. 

The mare struggled to her knees and let out a shaky huff of air before getting one leg stretched out to take her weight. She rallied her strength and then surged to her feet in one massive movement involving at least nine legs and subjectively fourteen hooves. Honestly, she was not entirely sure she was standing up instead of still listing over the rocky ravine floor. She stared uncomprehendingly at the pile of dirt and stones that made up the mini-landslide that had followed her down the steep side of the cliff-face. 

Blood dripped steadily from both nostrils, and Roach was pretty sure her eyes were going to fall right out of her face if the sun did not stop shinning so brightly. She lowered her head, letting her thick dark mane settle over her forehead in a nice veil. The horse stood there, breathing heavily, body shivering as she tried to adjust her senses to take in only one of everything. After several long minutes, her multitude of legs reduced to the expected four. She was able to slowly pick her way across the unsteady gravel towards a shadowed overhang that promised cooler air. 

Her head hurt like a motherfucker. She would blame the Witcher, except he had obviously tried his best to stop her inevitable overbalance at the edge of the very tiny path far above her head. Once under the protection of the overhang, she glanced up towards the rim of the ravine—no sign of her white-haired rider. Roach gave a throaty sigh and let her head hang down once more. She needed to rest. It looked like the mare was going to have to rescue herself. 

Flies were starting to congregate around the blood much to her discomfort, but Roach was just too damn exhausted to do anything about their tiny little legs walking around the wall of her nose and the dip of her eyelids. Goddamn flies. If she had the magic that her Witcher sometimes showed, she would kill all those little fuckers. 

The horse let her side rest against the wall of the ledge that curled up around and over her position, making it take most of her weight as she let her mind drift off into healing sleep. 

-

Night had fallen when her crusted over eyes peeled themselves open. Dark with only an eerie full moon overhead and no Witcher. That was troublesome. He usually took better care of her than that. Roach rolled her shoulders and stretched out her neck, feeling her spine and hips pop. The air had grown a little too chilly now, and she heard the sounds of nature coming alive. Somewhere up above, an owl was hooting hauntingly. With a heavy sigh of longsuffering, the mare left her nice little overhang and started plodding slowly south towards the foot of the mountain they had been slowly descending the last few days. 

Everything hurt, but at least her nostrils had stopped bleeding. She took stock of herself as she walked, craning her head this way and that. A wide stripe of skin had been rubbed off her side, and it was embedded with tiny, sharp pebbles. She started to feel it pull with each step, so Roach shortened her stride until it hurt less. 

Her Witcher was going to get dumped on his muscular white ass the next time he tried to sit on her saddle. Damn. Her saddle. Roach glanced back from where she had come and figured that the gear and that had been strapped to her had been buried under the rubble. Her reins were still in place, but she had the bit in her mouth and was worrying the warm metal. It was reassuring to know she could take her head and go in any direction she chose even if it was very, very slowly. 

They had been making their way to a village at the foot of the mountains. It was a relief to know that Jaskier had not met a horrible fate when she fell. He had been near her rear legs but must have ducked out of the way in time to avoid falling over the cliff. Thank Melitele for small miracles. Roach would have gnawed Geralt's knee caps off if anything had happened to her human. Reinvigorated by the thought of reuniting with the loud, but so very friendly, bard the mare heaved herself forward at a slow trot. 

It hurt, but the faster she got to the village, the sooner she would feel her Witcher's caring hands soothing her hurts away. Her mouth was dry with blood, and course dirt sticking to her gums. The mare would do almost anything for a drink of some clear spring water. She chattered her teeth against the metal bit. Roach hated the way her tongue felt too thick. 

She smelled the wolf before she saw it. Roach froze, her whole body standing to attention, ears flickering back and forth to localize the source of the scent. Footsteps padded softly over the ground to her left, and she scurried right, picking up speed. The ravine had become a dry riverbed with grassy sides just above her head. Somewhere up there, at least one wolf was stalking her progress. 

A huff of air was the only warning she had before a massive white wolf landed in the dirt in front of her, their noses were practically level. Roach whinnied in distress and gnashed her teeth, kicking out both front feet in a warning. The weight on her pained back legs was too much, and she slipped, landing on her injured side. She breathed heavily, unable to move from the waves of pain washing over her entire body. 

So this was how it all ended, in a dirty riverbed at the fangs of a feral wolf. Roach gave a high pitched sound of distress at the thought of never seeing either of her riders again. Her breaths were coming short and fast as she waited for the wolf to strike. The white fur was visible in her peripherals, but Roach did not want to see her death coming, so she kept her eyes averted and waited for the killing blow. 

Something wet touched her front shoulder, and out of pure confusion, she whipped her head around to find herself eye to eye with the wolf. Its sizeable black nose was pressed into her hide, but there were no visible teeth. Roach thought about standing back up, but her side was bleeding, and she was so tired. 

The canine gave a soft whimper and pushed against her shoulder with its front foot. The added strength was enough to rock her up onto her knees. After that, it was easier to stand. She watched as the white creature stalked around her, and it took all her mental power not to strike out automatically with her hooves. The wolf then started walking in the direction Roach had been headed. After a few feet, it looked back over its shoulder, and the mare hesitantly started walking forward. Satisfied, the wolf turned around, and they walked together through the night with tense silence between them. 

Roach did not trust the wolf, but she had little choice but to keep on moving or die of elements within a few days. 

-

"Oh, Melitele's fucking tits! Ow!" 

Roach's head shot up at the familiar voice filtering down from the nearby forest. Over several hours of travel, the dry riverbed had become more shallow though it was still too deep for her injured limbs to climb. The wolf jumped quickly onto the grass and loped into the forest. Roach stopped and listened. 

"Ah! Back! Back, you fiend! I have a lute, and I am not afraid to...well, actually, let's not use that and….what the fuck? Why are you licking me? Gross! I mean, thank you for not killing me?" 

The string of very emotional cries left the horse feeling dizzy with worry and then relief. She huffed and tried to take a few steps up the incline until her head was able to rise above the river line. There was some rustling in the nearby bushes, and then Jaskier stumbled out, his lute clutched in his arms and the wolf following behind him like a silent guard. 

It only took a moment for the bard to catch sight of Roach, and when he did, the man's mouth fell open in shock. 

"Roach! Oh, girl, I thought we lost you," his voice grew thick as he ran forward and then crashed to his knees next to her head. "You're hurt. Oh. Let me look at you." 

Roach dutifully turned in a slow, painful circle. 

"Such a smart girl," he praised her before letting his legs dangle off the side of the small drop. "How are we going to get you out of there, hmm?" 

The wolf jumped down into the riverbed and then crouched behind Roach's back leg, pushing forward. Not expecting it, the horse jumped forward in both fear and surprise. Another hop and she was safely up on the grass, shivering uncontrollably and so very tired. 

Jaskier was at her side instantly, his gentle hand's feather-light against her nose. "Oh, poor girl. I am so sorry. Here, let me." He dug something out of the bag on his back and produced a handkerchief and a waterskin. 

Roach sniffed at the container, licking at it, desperate for the water. Jaskier made a noise of distress and wrapped his arms around her neck before pulling back to trickle some water into his cupped hand. Slowly, carefully, he helped her drink several handfuls. It was not nearly enough, but he used the rest to dampen the cloth so he could wipe off the dirt and sweat caked to her face. 

"Such a brave dear," he said, his soothing voice prattling on as he worked. "Only you, dear girl, could fall down a cliff face and come back with a fierce bodyguard." 

It did not take long before Roach found herself falling into a fitful sleep to the sound of her bard. She hoped her Witcher was safe. 


	2. Gravity Check

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roach probably has a concussion. Poor baby. Jaskier just needs a freaking nap already. And when will they located their Witcher?

"Of course, I'm not an expert or anything," Jaskier was muttering in a low, conversational tone somewhere to Roach's left. 

The mare turned her head, squinting her eye open. The bard was lazing on the ground, legs spread out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. To her shock, he was resting his back against the wolf's side, long fingers absently threading through the thick white fur. The wolf looked asleep, curled up around the bard, head resting on huge paws. That was just one jaw snap away from a dead bard, Roach noted with dull concern. There was no telling how long they had been like that while Jaskier babbled. 

"Anyway, it looked like he was casting at Geralt, but then Roach got in the way, and I couldn't see anything, so I ran for cover, but there was no sign of the mage or Geralt after that. They just poof!" his free hand made an explosive gesture in the air, "disappeared." 

From the look of the bard, he had not slept in the last day cycle, and Roach was not healed enough to carry his weight. The motherfucker had better rest. She glared at him, willing his mouth to shut and his eyes to close. He ignored her completely. 

"Then I was left trying to figure out what to do. I could not see where Roach went, but I figured a fall that far would kill her - thank Melitele, that was not the case," Jaskier sounded like he was saying a little prayer at the end all somber and full of deep emotion the horse could not begin to fathom. 

Ugh. _Humans_. They were so complicated, caring, and generally not suitable for their own wellbeing. Her sample size consisted of one gangly bard, but the horse was pretty sure she knew what to expect from his species at this point. Roach took a step in Jaskier's direction, and the bard sat bolt upright. 

"Dear, are you awake already? We should see about finding some water so I can get you properly cleaned," he said. 

The wolf stretched lazily and then stood. Roach and Jaskier watched as the wolf planted its face as far up in the air as possible, which was quite a height considering its size. Then, after a few moments of deep breathing, the wolf started walking. It paused after several feet and looked back, not moving another inch until they both followed. 

It only took fifteen minutes before Roach smelled the water nearby. The wolf unerringly led them right to a babbling brook set between two moss-covered boulders.

"Oh! Lovely!" Jaskier exclaimed, taking out his waterskin to fill it. 

Roach shoved him out of the way and planted her entire face into the water. It was blessedly cool and tasted like sunshine after a broody winter inside the keep of Kaer Morhen. She drank long and deep until the water sloshed around her stomach with each movement. Finally satiated, she backed away and gave the bard room to wriggle between the boulders to fill his waterskin. 

"I'm sure that feels much better, doesn't it," he said with a fond smile for the horse. 

She tossed her head in agreement, regretting the abrupt movement immediately. Roach saw double for a moment before the world slotted back into place. Her head still ached abominably though the water had helped somewhat. 

"Oh, baby girl. Hush. You just rest now. Let me get you cleaned up," Jaskier said. 

He was at her side suddenly. She had missed the transition. Roach figured she might need some more sleep. She let herself rest while Jaskier's gentle hands cared for her, washing away dirt and eradicating some of the terrible itchiness that had taken over her wound. It was hot too, and the cool of the damp cloth he pressed against her skinned side sent a full-body sigh of relief through her. Roach let her head hang low, one back leg bent as she fell into a semi-sleep. 

-

The wolf was gone, and Jaskier was curled up on a mound of moss, head cradled in his arms. His doublet was filthy with dirt and debris. Roach knew he would complain loud and long about that once he noticed. She took a few unsteady steps forward and then straightened out her gait until she could pace in a large circle around the area. Her joints were starting to feel less stiff, but her side burned. 

Glancing over her shoulder, she was glad to see that Jaskier had removed all the small rocks that had been embedded in her skin, but now the wound looks angry and red with her dark skin mottled with scrapes, tears, and visible flesh in areas. It was disconcerting to look at, so Roach turned her attention towards the forest around them. 

There was no sign of the wolf. Roach was not sure if that was a good or a bad thing. While it was a natural predator, the creature had done nothing but help them and be a vaguely ominous presence. It had led them to water, though, and that meant it understood more than a typical wild thing could. 

Roach narrowed her eyes as a suspicious thought niggled the back of her brain. The wolf might not be a wolf. Magic had shown the horse that many things were possible. She would need to be more vigilant. The bard relied on her now, and she could not let the maybe-not-a-wolf near him again. 

-

Some time had passed, and Roach had spent it filling her stomach with bits of the lush greenery surrounding the brook. She was now comfortably full. Familiar carefree happiness tried to take over her mind, but she was still missing a rider, and there was the wolf to contend with if it deigned to reappear. 

Nearby, Jaskier started to make soft, wounded sounds like a beaten dog. Roach straightened and looked around, swiveling her ears for any sign of danger, but nothing stirred except the bard who was now twitching and flinching in his sleep. She trotted over to his side and snuffled at him, trying to find the source of his discomfort, but he smelled the same as ever. Her nose brushed against his cheek, and Jaskier jerked awake. He stared through her for a long moment before taking in a steadying breath and finally meeting her dark gaze. 

"Hey, lovely. I'm sorry—bad dream. Did I wake you?" he asked, smoothing a hand down the bridge of her nose. 

She nuzzled the crook between his neck and shoulder. All was well then—just a dream. Roach knew a thing or two about the terror that lurked during sleep. The biggest monsters with the sharpest teeth waited there to strike though their bite never quite broke her skin. 

"Such a brave, beautiful girl," Jaskier gushed, giving her a peck on the nose. 

There was a rustling in the trees, and Roach looked over just in time to see the wolf appear, two dead hares trapped between its teeth. The creature walked towards them with great, reaching strides and dropped the bounty at Jaskier's feet. Roach, disgusted by the scent of death, backed away a few steps before remembering herself. She needed to protect the bard. 

Eyes flashing, Roach planted her body between Jaskier and the wolf. The white animal's pale eyes looked up at her almost questioningly. The mare bared her teeth and stamped the ground in a warning. The wolf gave a confused harrumph and then turned away to sprawl out several yards away. 

"I think that the beast is safe, dear," Jaskier told her in a gentle whisper. "Thank you for protecting me, but I rather think it would have eaten me while you were sleeping if it were planning to do so." 

Roach had no way to tell the human that some shapeshifters were after more than a flesh and blood meal. The mare had seen her Witcher fight a cat shifter that had made him feel immense pain. It ate the fear, and she had smelled it being drawn into the cat-things gaping maw. Her withers twitched at the memory, and the horse turned so that her full attention was on the wolf. Nothing was going to eat any part of the bard. She would protect him until their Witcher came back. He would return, Roach had no doubt. 

With each passing cycle, she worried about what state he would be in. She would not be strong enough to carry him to a healer if he was gravely wounded. Roach let out a huff of frustration and fear, rocking her head from side to side in a self-soothing motion that hurt but also left her feeling less anxious. 

The wolf watched her, ears pricked forward, head cocked to the side as if trying to understand. She bared her teeth again and looked significantly between the wolf and the bard, making it very clear that he would not be getting near the human anytime soon. 

Roach missed her Witcher even if he was a colossal dumbass sometimes - especially in matters of their bard. Until he appeared, she would look after Jaskier and make sure everything was ready for Geralt's return. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feeeeeeedbaaaaaacccckkkkk! I may or may not be a Comment Zombie. :P. Let me know if you liked it <3 <3 <3


	3. The White Wolf Within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roach gets a clue. Jaskier really needs to take 4-H or something, dear lord. At least basic forestry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An agouti is a color of rabbit fur common among hares. Figured someone might not know.

It looked like the bard was skinning the hares. At least, that’s what Roach hoped the human was attempting to accomplish. She watched him with a slack jaw, dark eyes wide. It was like watching a cart wreck in slow motion. Despite the disconcerting scent of death and blood, the mare was fascinated by how entirely awful Jaskier was at the task that she had seen her Witcher accomplish in half the time with practiced, even movements. 

The wolf was also watching from a distance, brows drawn together. It made tiny little plaintive sounds, paws digging at the ground whenever Jaskier nearly skewered himself with the small penknife he had found in his bag. 

“I’ll get you some dinner in a bit, darling,” the bard said as he sawed through some fur and muscle. 

Apparently, he had taken the wolf’s noise to mean that it was hungry, but Roach was pretty sure the creature was just as horrified as she was at the uncoordinated spectacle Jaskier made. His doublet had been unbuttoned, and both it and his previously yellow blouse were covered in swathes of red. It looked like he had survived a massacre instead of skinned two medium-sized hares. 

Once the process was complete, more or less - Roach dubiously eyed the random tufts of fur still sticking to areas of the red meat - Jaskier got to work making a fire. The horse followed his movements, tracking him as he went to gather an armload of wood, leaves, and sticks before returning to the space that the mare had unconsciously marked as Their Camp. Thankfully, creating a fire seemed to be at least something the bard had under control. Within minutes they had a roaring flame, and Jaskier was creating a spit for the mangled meat. 

Satisfied that he was not going to murder himself with his tiny blade accidentally, Roach went for more water and then settled down in a large, soft patch of moss. It was like sleeping in a cloud of straw. The horse huffled in tired contentment. The only thing missing from this picture was her saddle and a certain Witcher. It would be nice to lose the reins at some point, too though she knew Jaskier did not quite understand horse care, so she did not begrudge him leaving the bit in all this time. 

She tried to keep her eyes open, but they kept drooping closed, the sound of the popping fire lulling her back to a restful doze. Her body still had plenty of healing to do, even if she was starting to feel more comfortable. 

“That’s it, babe. You rest, okay, girl,” Jaskier crooned at her, and then he started singing in a low, beautiful voice that sent her the rest of the way to sleep. 

-

She awoke with a start, on her shaking legs before she could even register that the monster in her dreams was not actually about to bite through her neck. Roach glanced around sharply, ears turning this way and that as she searched for any out of place sounds. 

A curious woof came from her side, and she glanced over at the maybe-not-a-wolf creature. It had its tail down, ears forward, eyes bright with a fierce intelligence. Roach decidedly did not trust it. She kicked out at it with one front foot, and it backed away with a pitiful whine. 

“Come on, now,” Jaskier admonished from his spot near the fire. Roach was glad to see he was eating some of the charred meat he had somehow managed to cook. “None of that. We were all getting along just fine, weren’t we, dears?” he said, reasonably. 

What the human did not know was that Roach was now confident the wolf was not a wolf. Well, not _just_ a wolf. There was something too alive and cunning behind those pale moon eyes that were now watching the mare from well out of striking distance. She gave a throaty whinny and then trotted in a large circle around Jaskier, marking out their space, and keeping a close eye on the not-wolf. 

It barked. Loud and affronted. One massive paw smacked into the ground, but it sank several inches into the moss silently, not making much of a statement. It barked again and then turned its nose up into the air and howled plaintively. Roach watched, still circling Jaskier protectively. What was the white animal playing at? Did he have friends out there somewhere to call in as backup? Roach did not hear anything out of the ordinary, but her heart started beating faster. 

“Now, you are both being ridiculous,” Jaskier said. He set down his food and stood up, walking over to Roach and following along for a few more steps before she paused, legs trembling. “It’s alright, dear heart,” he soothed, running his hand up and down her neck. “Settle.” 

It was not alright. Her kind-hearted, gentle, moron of a Witcher was out there alone and most probably hurt. She wanted the bit out of her mouth, something awful, and her side throbbed with each beat of her heart. Nothing was alright. Roach pushed her face against Jaskier’s chest, hiding away from the world for a moment until everything stopped feeling like so much. 

“There, there, Roach. You’ve been a brave girl. So strong. I know you’re hurting, and Geralt is gods know where, but it’ll be alright. He’ll find us,” Jaskier said. 

The not-wolf growled and then barked insistently. Roach glared at it, snapping her tail as if she could flip him away like an angry fly. That seemed to be the last straw for the not-wolf because it stalked over on huge legs, white face getting bigger with each step. Roach had half a mind to kick when it got within distance, but something about the tensed shoulders, pale moon-colored eyes, and set mouth made her pause. She knew that look. Roach saw it every day when the Witcher was striding around doing his Witcher thing. It was...wait. 

Geralt? 

Leaving the safety of Jaskier’s side, she slowly approached the not-wolf and cautiously sniffed at him. He sat patiently and let her, which was more than enough to confirm what she had suddenly suspected. 

_Geralt_. 

Her Witcher was a goddamn wolf. The horse threw her head up in the air and gave a great bugling neigh of laughter. Her Witcher huffed and threw himself on the ground, ignoring her mirth at his situation. 

“Well, at least that seems to have taken care of...that?” Jaskier said, clearly at a loss now that the tension between the animals was broken entirely. “Here, have some dinner.”

He offered Geralt a strip of meat that was a little too brown on one side. The Witcher took it delicately between his teeth, careful not to bite the bard, and then swallowed the food in one gulp. Roach snickered. All her earlier doubt and worry was gone replaced by a fizzy sense that everything was going to be just fine. They were back to business as usual. Geralt had gotten himself into a mess, Jaskier was oblivious, and Roach was going to have to save the day. Like always. 

Geralt was panting, his long pink tongue lolling out, and it was only then that Roach realized he must have been shifted by the magic person they had been fighting up on the cliff. That was trouble. Magic was always trouble. She knew from listening to him moan and groan about it for decades that the only way to break the spell would be to find the mage. They could not stay in the forest forever. 

The horse watched Jaskier try to chew his way through the rest of his hare, having thrown the second one to the Witcher, all the while covered in dried over blood and clumps of agouti fur. There was no way to make the bard understand her revelation, that the white wolf was actually The White Wolf. That could be a problem. If Jaskier did not know that time was of the essence, he might insist on spending days scouring the mountain for Geralt. 

Roach would need to think of something. She sidled up to the wolf and leaned down to snuffle the fluffy white fur on his head. He licked her face. Gross. He still smelled like dead rabbit, the horse noted with disgust. But the sentiment was appreciated, and it did settle her nerves somewhat. 

_We need to find a way to get Jaskier off his ass._ She thought very loudly towards her Witcher. He stared back, inscrutable. She tried again. _We need to find the mage._

Nothing. 

Ugh. No telepathic powers then. It was worth a shot. You never knew with magic. Roach snorted in his face and then looked pointedly at Jaskier before bumping her head against Geralt’s thick skull. 

_Figure it out, you dumb motherfucker. I do not have time for this shit._

Something in her expression must have gotten through because Geralt perked up, and he looked at Jaskier intently. Then he nodded at Roach, and she knew he was going to take over the bard detail. Relieved, she turned and walked away to munch on some well-deserved grass. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Send me your comments, questions, luuuurve, concerns, feedback. <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 Hope you liked it!


	4. Oats are Life: An Autobiography by Roach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They reach the village. Poor Jaskier needs to like kidnap the Queer Eye band and get his clothing disaster fixed asap. Geralt is not amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your lovely comments. <3 <3 <3 Seriously, you're all awesome!!

Roach watched from her spot in a patch of thick green grass as the Witcher got to work. In the end, it was not hard for Geralt to lead Jaskier away from their little encampment. He had casually walked over, let the bard scritch behind his ear for a moment, and then in a cobra-strike, he grabbed the nearby lute case in his oversized mouth and took off towards the treeline. 

Jaskier was on his feet immediately. "Oy! Beast, give that back! If you break her, I swear to Melitele." His voice was shaking with fury and concern for his instrument. 

The wolf glanced over to Roach and winked before weaving through the nearest trees. Jaskier quickly shouldered his small bag and took off running after the Witcher. 

"Get back here, you!" the bard shouted as he chased after the zig-zagging wolf. 

Roach trotted after them, keeping her pace sedate to stop the healing injuries from pulling too severely. Geralt was kind and doubled back every so often though she could easily follow Jaskier's loud cursing. Eventually, the yells died off, and Jaskier returned to Roach's side with a sigh of resignation, his head bowed so low his chin nearly touched his chest. She was saddened to see actual tears welling in his eyes. He rested a hand on her withers and walked beside her in silence. 

The wolf was back but keeping well ahead - a white blur appearing and disappearing. He was undoubtedly leading them towards the town where Jaskier would be able to get more information about the mage if they could somehow communicate that they needed him to find it. 

As they walked, the wolf would glance back every so often with those sharp moon eyes. Geralt caught sight of the silent tears slipping down Jaskier's face; he let out a whine in the back of his throat, too low for the human ears to detect, but the sound sent Roach's heart plummeting. Both of her friends were in distress, and there was nothing she could do except force her battered body onward. She pushed herself to move a little faster. 

"Easy, girl, it's alright," Jaskier soothed, his voice thick and raw. "Nothing to worry about." 

The mare wished she could reciprocate his reassurances and let him know that his precious lute was in the best care. Geralt would never allow himself to damage it. Even now she could see that he was holding it like a delicate flower, nestled between his jaws. 

-

It was well into mid-afternoon before Roach heard the distant sounds of life. Carts rolled, chickens squawked, and children were shrieking as they played. It sounded like a lively little village, so she hoped they would be able to help three travelers in need. 

They exited the forest at the edge of the town, and a splintered wooden sign proclaimed it to be called Holbeck. Roach had never heard of it before though she knew this had been their destination. Something about a contract that the mare had paid no attention to while her rider had explained it. 

Now that they had arrived, Geralt returned to Jaskier's side and, with a baleful look, gently settled the lute case on his feet. The bard picked it up, checking every inch of it for damage before cuddling it to his chest with a few sweet murmurs. Roach and Geralt both rolled their eyes at the display. 

"Well, I guess you are not completely awful," Jaskier said finally to the wolf. "You haven't hurt her, so that's plus, but see if I cook you any more rabbits, you ungrateful beast." 

Geralt gave a huff that sounded suspiciously amused before beginning to walk towards the town. Roach and Jaskier followed, and by the time they passed through the open gates, they were walking side-by-side, taking up the whole street. Their presence did not go unnoticed. Roach thought the screaming children and slammed doors were a bit of an overkill, but then she glanced over at her companions and down at herself before realizing that, yeah, they looked like shit. 

Jaskier's doublet was bloody from shoulder to waist, bits of it torn from when he had been trying to get back his lute, and it had caught on underbrush. Geralt looked big enough almost to be supernatural and Roach, well, she did not like to dwell on it, but she knew she looked filthy. Mud, muck, sweat, and blood from the few wounds that kept reopening had left her looking more dead than alive. 

Alright, so the screams and doors in their faces were understandable, but did that man have a fucking pitchfork? If they started throwing vegetables, the mare was going to knock some teeth out. 

A man was approaching. His huge muscular body barely contained within the ragged miner's uniform he wore. He held a pitchfork in one beefy hand. Geralt tensed beside her, but to Roach's complete disbelief, Jaskier rushed forward with an outstretched hand and a smile. 

"Oh, thank Melitele! We need some help, kind sir," the bard said, motioning between himself and the animals. "A mage attacked us on the mountain pass, and it all went rather horrible. Is there an inn here where we can get cleaned up? I need to get supplies and go back out after my friend. He's still up there somewhere…" Jaskier's words trailed off, and he sent a mournful look up at the mountain that towered over them. "...hopefully still alive," he finished quietly. 

The stranger's face softened into something approaching understanding. "The mage has been wreaking havoc on our village for months. A Witcher was supposed to be on the way to take care of it. I'm sorry." The man rested the pitchfork on his shoulder and nodded back the way he had come. "My uncle owns the inn, and I was just helping him empty out a few stalls. Why don't we get that horse of yours looked at." 

"Oh, yes, please. Roach, the poor dear, she fell when the mage attacked us," Jaskier said, his hands now tight around his lute case. He wisely did not mention that the friend he was missing was the Witcher. "I-I don't have much coin, but I can play. I'm a bard." 

This made the man laugh, not unkindly. "Not looking like that." 

Roach thought Jaskier was going to argue for a moment, but then he looked down at himself and grimaced. "I suppose you're right."

"You injured?" the man asked as he led them down the man street. 

"Oh, no. It's not my blood. I was cooking a rabbit," the bard said dismissively. "What is your name, kind sir?" 

"Hector," the man replied, looking dubious about the bard's mental state now that he knew the source of the blood. Roach did not blame him. No one should look that drenched after skinning a few hares. It was embarrassing. "I'll get you set up at the inn and then see about organizing a search party for your friend. Um, I hate to mention it, but that wolf of yours is tame? It won't go attacking our children?" 

"Oh, him? No, he's a sweetheart. Just don't let him near your wooden instruments," Jaskier said, hugging his lute even tighter. 

This did not seem to dispel Hector of the belief that her bard was a bit thick in the head. It might have helped if his tone had not made "wooden instruments" sound like a euphemism. Roach pushed herself between the two humans, and Jaskier obligingly altered his course so that he was bracketed on either side by Geralt and the mare. Hector observed them but remained silent until he turned off the road and led them through a winding alley that ended in a large building with a sign that simply said The Inn. 

A large corral led into a barn, and Roach was glad to see that several of the stalls were covered in a thick layer of brand new straw. Her body ached to lay down in one, and she lipped at Jaskier's shoulder impatiently, tugging a bit at his dark hair. He laughed and pushed her away so that he could look through his coin purse. It was not full enough by far. Even the horse could tell that. 

"I don't have much, but if I can get some healing salve for Roach's wound, then I would be grateful." 

"Of course," Hector pointed to a small wooden cabinet at the barn's far end. "Everything you need will be there. Five gold coins should set you up for the horse, dinner, a bath, and a room for the night. About your wolf... he'll need to stay out here. I can't have him inside scaring the guests." 

Roach snorted in amusement at the thought of sharing a barn cell with the Witcher. He threw her a wither look, the long fur on the back of his neck standing on end. Jaskier noticed and surreptitiously patted it back down even though Hector was not fooled. The man looked two seconds away from throwing them out. 

"Yes, he'll stay out here," the bard agreed readily. "Won't you, dear," he whispered between gritted teeth to the wolf. 

Geralt huffed but stalked past Roach and into the nearest clean stall where he plopped pathetically in the middle of the straw and stared a moon-light, squinted gaze at the humans. It was hilarious to see her rider pouting so openly in his wolf guise. In a move of solidarity, the horse allowed herself to be shooed beside him while Jaskier and Hector haggled over the price. 

She noticed a full-grain bucket and walked over to it, inhaling the sweet, beautiful scent of oats. It was like a shot of happiness straight to the brain. Roach started munching on the snack while waiting for the bard to return with whatever salve he intended to slather all over her hot side. 

At her feet, Geralt had rolled over onto his back and was gazing sadly up at the barn ceiling. Roach glanced up, but it looked normal to her eyes. He let out a low, strangled whine which must have been unintended because he closed it off with a sharp clap of his jaw coming together. Yeah, her rider was losing it. Understandable considering the circumstances. Roach supposed if she were forced to be Witcher, things would feel much the same. Her whole body shuddered in horror at the idea of being stuck on two legs _forever_. 

After taking one final bite of delicious oats, she walked over to his side and planted her nose on his ribs. Geralt gave a short yip of surprise and rolled away, disappearing for a moment in a flurry of straw. Roach's eyes glistened with amusement when he popped back up on his feet, looking disgruntled with a layer of yellow straw covering his head. She brayed at the sight and leaned her weight against the doorframe so that the heavier breathing would not strain her side. 

The Witcher glared. Then, after a moment, he shook his whole body like a dog ridding its coat of water. He hopped over to her side and nuzzled Roach's face, giving her a lick of thanks before returning to his designated spot on the floor. Her heart swelled. The Witcher was ridiculous, but she loved him. 

The sound of Jaskier's approach gave her a chance to turn around so that her wounded side was facing the door for easier access. The bard would get her patched up, and then together, they would help Geralt return to his two-legged form. Things were going to be alright. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think. <3 <3 Personally, I'm on the Wolf Witcher & Roach bromance 5evaaar train. I watch them go on adventures forever. :D I may be biased. :P


	5. It's Mage Hunting Season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier heads out to find his lost friend. Shhhh! Geralt and Roach are hunting a mage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who isn't here from my previous fic just FYI I gots myself a fractured wrist so my writing is sporadic as I work around the pain. Some weeks will have more update days than others and longer chapters. Sorry about the inconsistency, but I appreciate everyone who has read and given AMAZING feedback! Ya'all awesome!

Things were not going to be alright. 

Jaskier was bleeding on the floor of the barn. The hulking white wolf had collapsed on top of him, with slashes down his throat and back. Roach looked on in horror as the mage approached her, walking over her rider's bodies. Bones crunched when the mage stepped purposefully on the bard's playing hand. Her whole body shook with fear. The air was thick with the smell of blood and magic. 

Roach reared up on her back legs, striking out. Instead of hitting the mage, her front hooves sunk through him like he was not even there. She jumped backward, her injured side hitting the far wall of her stall hard enough to push all the air out of her lungs. The mage kept walking closer, mouth opening in a smile that had too many teeth. A serpent's head flicked out of his mouth like a tongue, twisting and scenting the air. 

She was going to die. Her friends were already dead, and she was next. Roach had fought too long, walked too far, done too goddamn much to die in some random village. 

_Geralt!_

The wolf lay unmoved by her mental scream. 

"-ake up, dear. Honey, you gotta wake up," it was Jaskier's voice, but it could not be. She saw him on the ground, mouth slack and eyes wide in a horrifying death stare. 

"-ke up! Baby girl, please. Shhh. Please, wake up." 

Something warm and wet touched her left eyelid, and Roach jerked her head away from it, banging into the stall's wall. She blinked away the pain and looked around. There was no mage. Jaskier was kneeling in front of her, his fingers twisting together. Geralt was at his side, one massive paw settled on the man's thigh. The horse took in the rest of the stall and found that she was huddled in the corner under the oat pail, her legs pulled beneath her in the bed of thick straw. 

A dream. It had only been a dream. She released a heavy breath and let her head fall into Jaskier's lap. He combed his fingers through her mane. She must have been making noise in her sleep to have drawn his attention. Geralt leaned forward and licked her again. Then he leaned his forehead against hers and shared a few breaths before leaning away. 

"There you are, dear. Shh. It's alright. We're okay," the human murmured. 

Daylight was breaking outside. Roach could see the pale golden light filtering in through slats in the wooden walls. 

"I know you're probably worried about Geralt, I am too, darling, but he is going to be fine." Something brittle entered the man's voice, "he's out there. I'm sure he's perfectly safe wherever….wherever he is," Jaskier's voice trailed off into a strangled sob. His hands slapped against his mouth to stop further sounds. 

The horse steadied her breathing and then carefully climbed to her feet. Jaskier followed suit. Geralt stayed by his side, watching the bard's face with an unreadable expression. Roach had known those two blithering idiots were love birds within ten minutes. She had felt the tension between them that balanced on the edge between love and hate. Though the longer it balanced, the more she had come to recognize the one side as not hate, but utter devotion. They were going to fall, and hard, but Roach figured she had another few years before they figured it out. 

At their glacial pace, it was a wonder any humans ever found themselves in relationships. The horse paced her stall, working out the last tremors from the nightmare until she felt like herself again. Jaskier was filling her water bucket, Geralt shadowing his every move like a heeled pup. It was hilarious. Roach was going to miss this when the Witcher returned to his usual self. 

"I have one more set to do, and then I'll head out to look for Geralt," Jaskier said once he had completed his task. 

Roach's ears flicked forward, eyes squinting. He had said **_I'll_** , and that sounded suspiciously like he was planning to leave Roach behind. Like hell she was going to let her accident-prone, squishy human out there all alone with a mage on the loose. Geralt was on the same page because he gave a loud bark of denial against the man's plans. Jaskier frowned down at the wolf. 

"Are you hungry, beasty? I guess last night's dinner was rather small," he said. 

Geralt hid his nose between his front paws and heaved an exhausted sigh. Jaskier patted him on the head and then did the same to Roach before squaring his shoulders, tucking in his new white blouse, and striding back towards the inn. 

_You better figure this shit out, Geralt_. Roach thought, giving the wolf some seriously weighted side-eye. He rolled his own eyes in response and then sat down. He had his thinking face on. Roach recognized the thinned out lips, barely drawn brow, and constipation eyes. Geralt was Figuring Things Out. 

She left him to it and drank some water then went back to pilfer a few more glorious mouthfuls of oats. They crunched in her mouth, releasing bursts of flavor that made her whole skin feel warm and tingly. Her body relaxed as she ate until it was almost possible to ignore the pull of her injuries as the skin began to knit itself back together. 

From one of the inn's open windows, the sound of a jaunty ballad filled the air. Roach listened as her bard sang. People clapped, feet stomped in time with his playing, and an overall sound of merry-making went up from whoever was listening inside the inn's tavern. The horse loved hearing the sound of his music, and even if Geralt often complained, he had admitted the same during his private conversations with her. 

The wolf's head was swaying slowly back and forth in time with the music, and Roach blew him a fond huff of air. He was such a big softy under all that Witcher bravado and years of hard training. She wished he was able to show it more often. People deserved to see the kindness hidden under all those prickly layers.

-

"I'll be back, Roach. You sta-aayay! Hey!" Jaskier shrieked in surprise when the white wolf nipped him in the butt as the bard was backing towards the barn door. He rubbed his ass. "Bad beast!" 

Roach tossed her head, and for once, it did not send her insides reeling. She must be healing. The horse had no idea what Geralt was playing at, but the wolf was dancing between the stall door and a cautious Jaskier, talking in a continuous, quiet yip like he was giving a full-on monologue. Jaskier watched for a few moments, head cocked to one side, a grimace of pain still on his face. Then a light seemed to go off behind his eyes. 

"You want us to bring Roach? Is that it, beasty?" he asked. 

The Witcher hopped in excitement at finally being understood and pawed at the door to Roach's barn cell. A few fragments of wood flaked off under the oversized claws. 

"Alright, alright. Let me just...I don't agree with this, you know," Jaskier said to the horse even as he led her out of the stall. "It's dangerous out there, and you're injured, and….well, I'd rather not have my ass turned into wolf chow, so here we are." He shrugged. "If you don't want to come with us, girl, you don't have to." 

He let her reins go, apparently to see if she would return to her soft, quiet stall that smelled of heavenly oats. Roach looked him right in the eye and then strode purposefully towards the barn entrance, head held high and no sign of a limp in her step. She would show him that under no circumstances was she better left behind. 

"Looks like I'm outvoted," Jaskier said with a frown, his brow furrowed. "But we'll just take a short trip out today and camp early. Hector said it might take a few days to get a search party all geared up, and I do not intend to wait. Not while Geralt's out there somewhere." 

They exited the village in the same formation they entered, with the animals protectively guarding either side of their brave bard. Roach was disappointed that they had learned nothing about where the mage might be holed up. At least, she had heard nothing. Before falling asleep for the night, she had watched Geralt sneak over to the inn and sit beneath the windows, ears perked for any information. He had done the same while Jaskier was enjoying breakfast. The wolf had come back to the stall long before the bard had left the inn. Roach was not sure if he had given up or heard some clue. 

The wolf was silently walking on the far side of Jaskier, his long legs eating up the ground, a determined expression on his face. Roach was hedging towards the belief that he might have learned something useful. There was no way to ask, but she would follow his lead. They followed the main road up the mountain, and the valley stretched out behind them like a beautiful carpet of green hues. 

Roach could admit a gorgeous view when she saw one. The bard was not even slightly distracted by the beautiful landscape. Not even when the sun made a stunning halo in the colorfully clouded sky. His face remained blank, shoulders set, eyes searching the mountain ahead constantly for any sign of his friend. The horse wished there was some way she could just communicate with the human to let him know that Geralt was fine. 

The Witcher must have had similar thoughts because he gently took the bard's hand in his mouth and cradled it between his teeth. Jaskier smiled sadly. 

"Hello, beasty," he said with forced cheerfulness. "Guess I'm darkening the mood, huh." 

The wolf released the hand and licked it once before returning to his spot a few paces away. Roach was confident if he were in his human form, he would be blushing. She resisted the urge to laugh at him again. Those two idiots were so besotted. Honestly, if she had to put up with another ten years of pining, Roach might kick _them_ down a ravine and leave them to figure out their shit. 

Above them, the mountain towered ominously. There was a mage hidden somewhere in that thick forest, and Roach was not looking forward to the rematch when they were so sorely outmatched. Sure, she and Geralt could probably hold their own, but Jaskier would have no way to know that. He had an awful tendency to sacrifice his personal safety too readily. 

The horse huffed to get Geralt's attention and then cocked her head, ears forward in a questioning expression. Had he learned anything about the mage? The wolf nodded. Great. Fucking great. They reached a fork in the trail, and without pausing, Geralt took the right path. Jaskier followed without putting up a fight, not knowing that with every step he was getting closer to the mage who had caused this whole dangerous mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know how you liked it. :D


	6. Rebel Girl You are the Queen of My World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier needs to learn when to just internalize stuff. Roach is a badass mofo. Geralt wagging his tail is literally the cutest thing ever. 😍😍

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your comments! Feedback is what gets me motivated. <3 <3 <3 Will update the tags for this chapter later. Don't want to ruin the surprise. ;) 
> 
> Chapter title based on Rebel Girl by Bikini Kill

Roach tried to get Jaskier to stop talking. She even stepped on his foot - just a little - and he stopped monologuing long enough to swear up a storm, but then it was right back to his relationship problems. The horse was ready to run full pace at a tree just to escape the second-hand embarrassment of hearing her bard express his pining attraction to her Witcher. The Witcher that was listening raptly to every word Jaskier spoke, moon eyes wide and tail wagging slowly back and forth.

 _Shut the fuck up!_ She mentally shouted after throwing another death glare at the bard. He either did not see or did not understand the horse expression for 'You are An Idiot, Stop Talking Now!'. 

"I know he's dedicated to the Path, and I respect that, I do. I mean, honestly, I love the Path. All the adventures and the many varied people I get the chance to meet. Wouldn't trade it for the world, but I just find myself wondering if Geralt is really happy, you know?" Jaskier asked the pine trees with a long, heartfelt sigh. "He gives so much to everyone and gets so little in return. I wish I could just show him that some of us lo- _appreciate_ him." 

Thank god he avoided the 'L' word or else they would have a brain dead, mountain-sized wolf to cart back down to the village. Roach was confident if they ever got around to genuinely admitting the depth of their feeling for one another, they wouldn't leave their bedroll for a month. She needed to get Geralt changed back and soon. 

Finally, the relationship talk stopped when Jaskier spied a couple of fighting hawks swooping through the skies and began muttering possible song lyrics to himself. Roach was relieved. She glanced over at Geralt and saw that he was focused on the path in front of him, eyes once again filled with that constipated look that meant he was Thinking Big Thoughts—poor dear. 

-

They had been making slow progress for nearly two hours before the white wolf paused and then sniffed the air. Roach tensed, ready to jump into action. 

Geralt's ears went flat on his head, and he gave a very low, rumbling growl. Roach and Jaskier froze. The horse listened and could just make out an almost imperceptible sound of footsteps somewhere ahead on the trail. They were approaching. By the Witcher's reaction, she knew it had to be the mage. Her nightmare flared to life behind her eyes, and Roach shied back a few yards with a nasal groan before rallying her strength and moving forward again. The Witcher watched her with worried eyes. 

They did not have much time. Any moment the mage would come into view, and Jaskier had no warning. She had to think of something. Before Roach had time even to formulate a plan, the black-haired man from the clifftop appeared. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw them and then darkened with anger. 

"For fucksake, not you lot again!" the mage complained, throwing his hands up. 

Geralt was already bounding towards him, but whatever spell the mage was beginning to mutter was not aimed at the wolf. Roach realized with sudden horror that it was aimed at Jaskier. Without thinking, the horse rushed forward and planted herself firmly in front of the human just as magic lit up the air. 

She heard Geralt bark, and Roach tried to turn her head, but the world was tilting strangely. Everything was growing bigger and further away as if the ground was sucking her down. The horse shook her head as the metal bit in her mouth swelled in size until it was uncomfortable. She spit it out, and to her shock, it actually slid over thick lips and down her chin. The reins were heavy over both shoulders, and the bit came to a stop around her navel. Roach looked down at her body and gave a horrified scream. 

The spell had shifted her into a human. 

Hands were on her back and shoulder. Still confused and scared, she shied away trying to kick out with her front hooves, but all that happened was uncoordinated flailing of the thin stick-like appendages that ended in two tiny hands which flopped uselessly. Her breathing was coming fast and shallow. Roach swallowed and tried to run, but her back legs did not understand their new configuration quite yet, and she landed hard on her rear. 

"Hush, dear. It's alright, Roach. It's alright. I know this must be frightening and just very strange, but it's alright," Jaskier was mid-babble when she finally tuned into the bard. He was cautiously approaching with something in one hand, his other empty and outstretched with the palm up. Every few seconds, he would glance over her shoulder towards where Roach could hear Geralt and the mage struggling. "I'm going to touch you now, okay. I'm not going to hurt you, dear, but, well, you're not exactly decent, and I'm going to cover you in my doublet." 

That's when she noticed that he was down to his white blouse, and it was the ruined doublet in his other hand. He had been forced to wear it since the mountain air was so cold and the rest of his clothes were somewhere down that horrid ravine. Naked. The word popped into Roach's mind, and she looked down at herself again. Smooth, dark brown skin covered her human form. Her injured side was rubbed raw, and she winced. 

"Can I touch you, dear? Just nod for yes if you cannot speak. I'm not sure exactly how the spell worked," Jaskier said gently. 

"Yes," she said. The words came automatically. It felt the same as all the times she tried having conversations in her head with the stupid humans. Somehow, in this new body, it translated directly into verbal speech. "I don't mind being naked. I'm used to it," she said. 

Jaskier's entire face turned red even as his blue eyes were heavy with concern for her and their Witcher. "Clothes aren't always just for the person wearing them, Roach." 

"That sounds stupid. Give it here." She thrust out her hand for the clothes. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Geralt's giant white blur towering over a lump on the ground that must have been the mage. Now that she was not reeling from the change, Roach found it frighteningly easy to connect with the body. Her thoughts almost instantly translated into actions or words. That must have been an aspect of the spell. Perhaps it had merely needed time to settle. Jaskier held out the cloth, and she snatched it. It took some doing getting her fingers to work the buttons, but after a minute, she had it on with the front mostly closed. Roach's smaller build had the doublet falling to mid-thigh when she stood. 

Jaskier steadied her with a light touch on her elbow when her knees threatened to give out. She was not used to them bending forward. It was an unnatural feeling like the first time you get shoed. Every movement was laggy and overstimulated. A glance at her Witcher revealed that he had bested the mage though it was hard to tell if the magic wielder was dead or alive. Blood smeared Geralt's chest fur, but there was not enough to indicate a killing blow. She started in his direction with a determined stomp. Her legs were so short it was a wonder humans could get anywhere on these things. 

"Geralt, you could have died. Next time, wait for backup!" she yelled at the Witcher. 

"What are you talking about?" Jaskier asked from her side. He looked back and forth between her glare and Geralt's calm expression several times before gasping loudly. "Oh, my gods! Geralt! Is that you?" he asked the wolf. 

The Witcher lowered his tail, ears flickering around as if he was not sure what he felt before finally nodding sheepishly. Jaskier dropped himself to the ground and placed his face in his hands with a groan. 

"All this time?" the bard asked without looking up. "E-even earlier when I was...?" 

"Yes," Roach answered for her Witcher with absolutely no sympathy. She had tried to get him to stop talking. "Now, Geralt, did you kill the mage?" 

The Witcher shook his head and growled down at the unconscious man at his feet. 

"Good. Because he needs to change me back, I refuse to remain in this...this...this tiny, soft, weird little body," Roach said with a hand motion to encapsulate her new form. 

Now it was Geralt's turn to gloat, and he grinned, gums pulled back from long teeth, and let out an amused huff. Jaskier glanced at them both through his fingers and then gave another groan. 

"How are we supposed to get the mage to turn you guys back?" the bard asked finally. 

Now that she had the ability to give input on one of their little adventures, Roach could quickly provide an answer that they somehow never seemed to figure out on their own. She wrestled the reins off from around her shoulders and knelt over the mage, using the long leather straps to bind his hands and feet securely. As a final touch, she fastened the bit in his mouth so that he could not speak a spell and catch them unaware. 

"Well, you start with that," she said, patting Geralt on the head. "Then," Roach turned her attention to Jaskier, "you question him when he wakes up and see what his price is for turning us back and leaving this place." 

Geralt growled and stomped the ground with his paw, sending a cloud of dust and tiny pebbles into the air. Roach knew that look. The Witcher wanted his contract coin, and he was not going to get it without proof of the mage's demise. She rolled her eyes. 

"You can kill him or whatever once you're human," she reasoned. 

"Kill him?" Jaskier exclaimed. He shook his head, fervently. "He had a chance to kill all of us twice now, and he didn't. He used non-violent methods. We should too." 

The Witcher and Roach glared at him. 

"But what does my opinion matter. I'm just a bard." 

Their glares softened. Roach sighed in defeat. 

"Fine. We'll question him, get him to change us back, and convince him to move the fuck on. Happy?" she asked. 

Jaskier's eyebrows climbed near his hairline. "You swear?" 

"Fuck yeah," she grinned wide and tried to flair her nostrils, but it did not have the same effect with the human body. "I'm a Witcher's mount. Of course, I swear." 

The wolf hid his face in his paws and whined. Jaskier chuckled at them both and then relaxed. Despite their altered states and Jaskier's earlier monologue, the familiar sense of comradery fell over them. Jaskier stood to his feet and went back to where he had abandoned his traveling bag when the fighting started. 

"First things first, I'll set up camp, and then we can wait for our guest to wake up. Roach, I have some extra small clothes in here you can borrow," Jaskier said. 

He rummaged around in his bag and then tossed Roach some clothes. She pulled them on and found them much too loose. They sagged a bit on the hips, and she felt ridiculous having something covering her rear end. What if she had to defecate?! Humans were such an odd species. Roach would humor them.

She had found it hilarious how her nakedness caused Jaskier to turn red as a ripe tomato. She wondered what it would take to get the blush to return. 

"You know," she drawled, "both of you have ridden me naked and kissed me." 

It worked. Jaskier's entire face, neck, and even the tips of his ears were red. Geralt gave a few grumpy growls, turned in a tight circle a few times, and flopped to the ground. Roach laughed. It felt wonderful how the whole sound bubbled up out of her chest. She loved it. 

"Once things are back to normal, Geralt, can we never mention this again?" Jaskier asked, scrubbing both hands over his face. "And...and what I said earlier. We can just pretend it never happened, yeah?" 

The wolf yipped in agreement though he was steadfastly avoiding Jaskier's gaze. Roach rolled her eyes at her two oblivious assholes. She picked up Jaskier's waterskin from his pack, thirsty after their long trek up the maintain. Her first swallow ended up in her lungs, and Roach coughed and sputtered for several painful minutes before she could talk. 

"How do you work this thing?" she asked Jaskier, pointing at her mouth. 

The bard patiently walked her through the process of holding her breath while drinking, and Roach had never missed her body more than at that moment. Honestly, humans could drown themselves while drinking! Nothing was safe for them. Now she would need to be more attentive whenever Jaskier sated his thirst. He was always so distracted the chances of him accidentally drowning himself were probably quite high. Roach wondered how he had lived this long. 

Once she was done and settled into the bedroll - it was chilly up in the mountains - she found herself growing tired. The stresses of the day and her still healing injuries having drained her reserves. She yawned approximately fifty-thousand times before her eyes finally slid closed. 

"Human bodies are stupid," Roach grumbled as she fell into a dreamless slumber. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg. I hope you all don't hate it. I'm so nervous to know if you liked it or not. I've never read a human Roach fic before so this mess is all mine. :P. But I just mentally pictured Mazikeen from Lucifer except like Ariana Grande sized. 
> 
> Anywhoo, I accidentally found myself liking the mage so that happened. Wait until you meet him. :P <3 <3 <3 Feedback encouraged. Love you guys!


	7. All Creatures Great and Small

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mage wakes up. Roach and Geralt are subjected to magical experimentation (it is MUCH cuter than it sounds). Jaskier just really needs a nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your kind comments! I was so nervous about posting the last chapter and y'all showed me there was no reason to be. All the lurve to you guys. <3<3<3<3<3<3

A small fire was going when Roach woke up. She stretched her arms above her head and yawned. 

“Humans yawn a lot,” she commented drowsily. 

Sleep still clung heavy to her eyelids, and they drooped halfway closed as she looked around the camp. Jaskier was reclining with his back against Geralt’s side, much like that first day. The mage was propped up against a tree stump, his head lolling against his chest. He was still breathing, so that was good, but his continued unconsciousness was troubling. Roach hoped he had not sustained any injury to his brain. She needed him to be able to switch her back. 

“There are some professors of the human condition who believe yawns are a sign of sympathy or empathy. I get the two confused,” Jaskier said. He was twirling a blade of grass between his fingers looking bored. Probably because he had left is lute behind at the inn for safekeeping. “How are you feeling, dear heart?” 

“Mhmm. Fine.” 

She shrugged. It was a new sensation that pulled her back muscles wonderfully like a nice gallop. Roach now understood the Witcher’s tendency towards mumbles and hums in response to direct questions. Her brain felt fuzzy with sleep, and considering the number of potions that man drank every week, his head was probably buzzing all the time with some hazy feeling or other. She narrowed her eyes at the white wolf. 

“You need to take better care of yourself,” Roach said. 

Geralt raised his head, cocked it as if trying to understand, and then let it fall back onto his folded paws. Roach crawled out of the bedroll and shivered at the cold air on her skin. The sun was not down yet, but it would be soon. The sky was a stretch of golden-pink and brilliant purple. 

“So do you, bard,” she said, pointing at Jaskier with a reproachful frown. “No more of this sacrificing yourself for others. You need to value yourself more. You’re a fucking treasure, and I’ll kick the shit out of anyone who tries to tell you differently.” 

The bard blinked at her words, his eyes wide with surprise. “I’ll...take that under advisement,” he said finally. There was a light of affection in his blue eyes. “As long as you do the same, dear. Stepping in front of me without knowing what spell had been cast could have killed you.” 

Roach snorted. She knew that. “Better me than my bard,” she said with a dismissive flap of her hand. 

Jaskier smiled, his eyes suspiciously damp. “Oh,” he said, voice sounding thick. “Thank you.”

Something felt off with her human body. 

“So...um...hate to bring this up, but you know that water I drank earlier?” Roach said, avoiding his gaze now that she had identified what that feeling of pressure between her legs meant. 

“Yes?” Jaskier asked hesitantly. 

“It needs to come out now. How does that work? Do I leave the clothes on? Or….?” Roach tried to remember how Geralt urinated. He usually faced away from her standing next to a bush or tree, so she had no idea how the process worked. She hopped from one foot to another to distract herself from the need to take care of business. 

“Oh, oh dear,” Jaskier said, suddenly flustered. He looked at Geralt for support, but the wolf pretended to be asleep, keeping his breathing even and eyes closed. “Well,” he gulped, nervous for reasons Roach could not understand. “First, yes, you’ll need to pull down your small clothes and try not to pee on them when you go. I think you just uh, kind of….sit over the area where you want to go and just….go,” he finished lamely. 

Roach nodded. It sounded easy enough. She shimmied out of her small clothes and tossed them to the side with her foot and then squatted. 

“Not here! Melitele’s fucking tits! I did not look. I swear. Just. Um, in the woods. Go into the woods and do it,” Jaskier said. He had slapped his hands over his eyes the moment he realized what she was doing. 

“You could have said that before. Fuck. No reason to have a fit,” Roach said. She hurried into the nearby bushes. 

When she came back, Jaskier was blushing furiously once again. Roach had the urge to tease him some more, but she felt excellent now and decided to cut him a break. She pulled her borrowed clothes back on and returned to the warmth of the bedroll. 

The mage groaned. Jaskier and Geralt were on their feet in a moment. Roach figured they had it handled, so she huddled in the warm blanket and observed, ready to jump up if necessary. 

“W-wmmhm?” the mage tried to speak around the bit in his mouth, blinking rapidly as he looked around the camp. “Whm hbbn?” 

“You shut it,” Jaskier said, looking angry for the first time. “We are the ones that are going to be asking the questions, and you are going to answer. Nod if you understand.” 

The mage nodded slowly, his eyes tracking Geralt’s hulking form. Jaskier reached out and carefully removed the bit before moving back out of biting range. 

“If you try to speak a spell, he will rip out your throat,” the bard informed their prisoner. “Now, I need you to change my friends back.” 

A warm kind of glowy feeling filled Roach’s chest at being referred to as a ‘friend.’ The sensation made her feel lighter like she could float away in a stiff breeze. She gripped the bedroll tightly just in case that was a possibility. Never before had she considered that her depth of devotion would be reciprocated. To have it said so levelly was enough to make tears pool in her eyes. Roach tried to blink them away but only succeeded in making them fall. Humans were silly creatures. 

“I’m not sure if I can,” the mage said hesitantly. 

“Excuse me? You can’t control your own magic, is that what you are saying? Or is this some trick?” Jaskier asked, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. 

Geralt growled at the mage’s feet. The man jerked backward though the reins kept him securely bound. He was starting to sweat profusely, and Roach saw genuine fear in his dark eyes. She believed him. The fucker did not know how to change them back. Fucking great. Roach wanted her strong legs and thick hooves back so she could kick him. 

“I c-can control it...kinda. I just. I’m new, right. I started my training last season, and my focus was on healing magics, not this stuff. The only defensive magic I know is a transformation spell. But it’s not very clear in terms of what someone is turned into.” 

“Wait, you didn’t know what we would transform into?” Jaskier asked in disbelief. “You could have turned Geralt into a dragon or a werewolf or a-” he cut off his thoughts, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Is there a way to change them back?” 

“Of course,” the mage nodded furiously. “Yes, my teacher could do it. He lives on the far end of the mountain chain several months ride from here, but he could definitely reverse the spell.”

“But you can’t?” Jaskier demanded, his voice dropping dangerously.

“I-I could just keep saying the spell until it turned them into the right thing?” the mage offered. 

Geralt and Jaskier shared a look. Geralt nodded. Roach did not like the looks of that, and she stood. 

“Fine. We’ll try that. What’s the worst that can happen,” Jaskier said, sounding like he knew full well that it could turn disastrous. “We don’t have months to waste traipsing around with a mage that might stab us in the back.” 

The bard went over to his bag and retrieved the penknife he had used for skinning the rabbits. There were still flecks of dark blood dried to the blade. He walked back to the mage and gripped his dark hair tight in one hand, pressing the knife to the man’s throat with his other. 

“Try anything, and I’ll slit your throat. Understand?” 

“Yes. I-I won’t try anything,” the mage said. 

“Good.” 

“I’ll need my hands. For the casting,” the mage said, sounding scared. 

Jaskier carefully unwound the reins from the man’s hands while Geralt stood over the mage, large paws resting heavily on both the man’s shoulders, his face twisted into a mask of teeth and trembling jowls that threatened a swift death at any moment. Once he was free, the mage slowly brought his hands out in front of him and started to speak. As soon as Jaskier’s knife returned to the man’s throat, Geralt backed away to give them room for his transfiguration. 

Roach hated this whole idea. She wanted to shout at her friends that they were complete fucking idiots for trusting the mage. Something stopped her tongue - the look of fear in the mage’s eyes or maybe the way that she recognized how young he was under all the trappings. If she had to guess, he was still a yearling. Not yet an adult, but older than a colt. It made something in her soften, and Roach hated that sense of connection with the man who had almost caused her death. 

The casting completed with a flash of magic. The white wolf disappeared. In its place was a small snowy kitten with large yellow eyes that gaze up mournfully at the bard. It gave a plaintive meow, and Roach hid a smile behind her hand. Geralt was so goddamn cute. 

“Again!” Jaskier hissed, pressing the knife into the soft flesh.

“Fine, y-yes,” the mage said, drawing in a deep breath to repeat the spell.

In quick succession, the Witcher was transformed into a pale buck with wide-reaching, majestic antlers, a gray coated fox, and an albino squirrel with unnerving pink eyes. The last switch came just as the mage was starting to falter from exhaustion. After the now familiar flash of magic, Geralt was standing before them stark naked. 

They stripped the mage to his small clothes, and Geralt struggled into them, being forced to leave the shirt only half-buttoned, which allowed it to stretch across his broad shoulders and chest. Jaskier was avoiding the Witcher’s gaze and stumbling around him awkwardly though neither mentioned it. Roach watched in dismay. They really were going to pretend nothing had happened. 

Her turn. Roach stalked over to the men, and before anyone could order the mage to turn her back, she pulled her Witcher into the tightest hug her tiny human form could muster. He froze in surprise before slowly relaxing into it. A large hand patted her shoulder cautiously. She pulled away to look up and up and _UP_ at him. God, Witcher’s were fucking tall. 

“You have been a good caretaker, Geralt,” she said the words that she had wanted to say to him for so many decades. “You are kind and so very caring. I owe you a lot, and I wanted you to know that.” She grinned mischievously to let him know the next bit was partially a joke. “And if you ever let me get turned into a human again, I’m going to smother you in your fucking sleep. This body is the worst. Okay, dear?” 

“Hmmm.” He nodded. 

Good enough. She stepped back to give the mage more room to work and waited. 

“You turn me into a pig, and I’m going to bite you,” she warned the nearly naked man. 

“Wait!” Jaskier interrupted when the mage started muttering his spell. Everyone glanced over at the bard in confusion. “The, uh, clothes. I still think I can save the doublet,” he said weakly. 

Roach groaned and shed her clothes that she had been forced into wearing in the first place. Honestly, could humans not make up their minds about these things? Both men avoided looked directly at her until the magic flared. Roach found herself towering over them. Her front limbs were like tree trunks with huge muscles that could easily rip Geralt in two. Thick fangs filled her mouth, pressing out from between her lips. A fucking striga. That asshole had turned her into a striga. 

The mage must have sensed the rage pouring out of her because he rushed through the spell again, face pale, and Roach found herself back to normal. She whinnied, but instead of the sound she was expecting a horrid screech escaped her lungs. A quick look over her body showed that Roach was not a horse after all. While she had the right size, weight, and number of legs, unexpected wings were growing out of her shoulders, and her ankles were covered in thick black fur. Ah. A pegasus. Those crafty fuckers looked okay, but they sounded like death warmed over and tended towards eating human flesh. 

She bared her teeth at the mage. 

One more round of spells and Roach was once again herself. A standard horse body was staring back at her when she twisted her neck this way and that to get a good look. She tossed her head and nickered in sheer delight. Just to show off a bit, Roach reared and turned on her back hooves to streak down the mountain path at full speed. It felt so damn good. 

It only took a few steps before her injury painfully reminded her that she should be taking it easy. The walk back towards the camp was at a much more sedate pace, but her heart thundered with the joy of being back to her usual self. She wondered if the Witcher had shared her feelings or if he missed the freedom that being an anonymous wolf had provided. 

By the time she returned, her riders were back to grilling the mage. He looked ready to faint after all the magic on top of his head wound. Jaskier threw her a gentle smile when she briefly glanced his way. Roach walked over to Geralt’s side and rested her head comfortably on the crook between his neck and shoulder, watching the proceedings with sharp eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like this mage. Idk why. Maybe he reminds me of my dumbass brother. **shrug** Anywhoos, we're just a few chapters out from a happy ending for our fellas and gal. ;) I'd love to get your feedback and comments over this chapter. All the love to you guys!!! Have a gorgeous day.


	8. Who Run the World? Roach!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roach gonna get those oats (well, soon). Jaskier and Geralt may need to have a conversation in the near future. Our boys got some things to sort out before Roach locks them in a closet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kind comments about human Roach. I cannot thank you guys enough. Serious morale boost there. <3 <3 <3 <3

"Now talk," Geralt growled.

"I never meant to hurt anyone. My uncle had a cabin. It's just a few miles up the path. I meant to use it as a place to practice my healing magics until I got good enough to...to…" the mage attempted a steadying breath and then burst into ugly sobs. 

Jaskier and Geralt exchanged looks of confusion. Roach felt her heart melt just a little bit more towards the magic wielder. 

"To fucking what?" Geralt bit out.

The mage looked up through his tears. "My sister is sick. That's why I chose to become a mage in the first place so that I could try and save her, but there isn't much time left, and I needed to be able to focus, and those townspeople kept interrupting. They saw magic and thought I was like all the other power-hungry assholes. I just want to save my sister. Please, let me go." 

"Not fucking likely," the Witcher said. "That's the worst sob story I've ever heard someone make up." 

"I-I'm not making it up," the mage said, voice going shrill with desperation. "You have to believe me!" 

The Witcher raised an unimpressed eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. Roach figured the threatening look he must have been going for was wholly ruined by the shirt sleeves splitting their seams the moment he brought up his shoulders. Jaskier _tsked_ and gently maneuvered the Witcher to one side. Roach followed, keeping her chin firmly planted on its Witcher shelf. 

"Let me," Jaskier said quietly. 

Geralt grunted. 

"Now, mage. First of all, thank you for changing my friends back," Jaskier started. 

The word 'friend' still sent a curl of satisfaction down Roach's spine. She missed being able to smile. Maybe she would share her oats with the bard when they got back to the inn. 

"However, we still have a problem. The village has a contract out on you. If we don't fulfill it, they'll just call in someone who will," Jaskier continued. 

"What should I do? I can't leave. The time it would take to travel back to my teacher would be time wasted. My sister grows sicker every day. I must master the healing spell that will save her life," the mage argued, looking stricken. "I'll do anything. Whatever you want. You can come back for me later. Kill me if you have to, but after I save my sister." 

Well, fuck. Roach knew her riders were suckers for the self-sacrifice ploy. Even though she was inclined to believe the mage was telling the truth that did not make him any less responsible for the fact that she almost died. 

"How long?" Geralt asked, finally through gritted teeth. 

"A week. Maybe a month. Um, two at the most," the mage said, stuttering over his words. "Not long. Please, I just need time." 

Jaskier and Geralt exchanged another look, and the Witcher gave a tiny nod. The bard grinned. Roach knew that they had decided to give the mage a chance. She knew that really it was the sister they were giving the chance to, but it equaled the same thing. 

"My horse needs to heal. We will stay with you. Monitor you. Until the magic is complete," Geralt said. 

The mage slumped forward, his whole body deflating in relief. "Thank Melitele. Oh, thank you. Thank you. You just saved my sister's life." When he looked up, his dark eyes were full of shimmering hope. "You can stay at my uncle's cabin as long as it takes and then." He swallowed hard, but his honest gaze never wavered. "And then, after, you can kill me. I won't fight you."

"Hmmm," Geralt rumbled. 

"In the meantime, we need to retrieve our things. They're scattered all over the gods damn mountain, and without Roach in top shape, I'm not sure how we're going to get them all back," Jaskier said, pacing back and forth, tapping his chin with his index finger. "You wouldn't happen to have any magic that could help us out with that, would you?" 

The mage shrugged. "I can call things to me. It's the only way to get certain spell ingredients. I can also do a simple locator spell if you wanted to retrieve them yourself." 

"I'll need to return to the inn and gather my lute and a few other things. Geralt, if you and Roach want to head up to his cabin, I'll be there by tomorrow evening," Jaskier said. "Use the magic to get our bags and your gear too." 

Roach was proud of her bard. He had been the only human in their band for most of the last few days, and his confidence had grown. She left her Witcher's side and snuffled at Jaskier's hair fondly. He brushed her away with a giggle. 

"Now, you, dear girl," he said with a stern look, "need to heal. You've done marvelous, darling. Let us take care of you now." 

She snorted. They would be lost in two minutes without her, but she supposed it had been a long trek up and down the mountain. The horse deserved some relaxation. Roach hoped the mage had oats. 

Geralt and Jaskier muttered to each other, working out a few more of the details, while they untied the mage's feet and restrained his hands. The man did not complain and remained docile under Roach's dark stare. She would be watching him. One wrong move, one word of spell magic, and she would bite his dick off. See him come back from that. No one was going to double-cross her Witcher. 

Jaskier gave her a soft pat on the head a peck on the nose before heading back down the mountain into the gathering dusk. It was a straight shot, and the Witcher would have said something if he thought there were dangerous predators in the area, but the horse worried about him walking in the dark. Geralt must have been on the same page because he gave her a knowing look. 

"Go on then," he said, patting her neck. "Go after your bard." 

Roach danced sideways, blowing a snort his way, before taking off at a fast walk after Jaskier. Her Witcher was much more capable of taking care of himself alone than their dear bard. When he glanced back at her approach, Jaskier looked relieved to see her there. 

"Ah, thanks, girl. I'm sure you're tired of walking, but the company is appreciated," he said. 

She nickered in agreement and slowed down to a sedate walk. They had plenty of time, and it was a beautiful night. 

-

"And so I thought, hey, an ear to listen that won't judge - not that you're judgemental, dear - and who won't care - not that I mind you caring, of course - and I just wanted to get it off my chest. Then that kind, gentle beast of a wolf turns out to be Geralt. Who now knows everything. Well, almost everything," Jaskier amended with a grimace, "and now what am I supposed to do?" he asked, gazing mournfully up at the full moon. 

_Stop being a dumbass and say all this shit to him._ That would have been her human response, but without words, Roach was back to her native language. She nipped him on the butt. Jaskier shrieked and rubbed at his backside.

"Ouch! What was that for?" he asked, glaring. 

She snickered and huffed in his face, nostrils flaring wide. _For being a dumbass._

He limped for a few steps before the pain seemed to fade. "I guess you're tired of hearing me complain, huh?" Jaskier asked softly. "I don't blame you. Bards are notoriously dramatic. We can't seem to help it." 

Roach bumped his shoulder with her forehead and then trotted forward a few steps to slap him in the face with her tail. Now that her riders knew that she understood what was going on around her, she could be more open with her non-verbal comments. 

"Alright, alright," he said with a laugh. "Thank you for coming with me, Roach. You're a good friend." 

She tugged on a clump of his dark hair. _So are you, dear._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you liked! <33333 Thanks again to all you lovelies who have been leaving amazing comments. I <3 you all.


	9. Three's a Crowd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, Geralt's gone and gotten himself into another relationship mess. No Djinn required. Yennefer, a mage, Jaskier. He really needs to pick a team and stick with it. Roach is DONE with his shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear lord. PTSD and my work kicked my ass this week. Thought I was going to freaking die trying to get out the long articles I had due BUUUT I prevailed. However, it did lead to this chapter being shorter and taking way longer than I would have preferred. :( Stick with me guys, this weekend I will have more time for helping our boys and Roach iron their shit out. :P 
> 
> <3 <3 <3 Thank you all for your amazing comments!!!!

The cabin was small and squat, and the barn was almost an add-on, it was so close. Just a few short steps away from the front door. When Roach and Jaskier approached it the next day, the horse found herself wondering how Geralt was able to walk around inside without hitting his head on the rafters. She was unsurprised to see him walk out the front door, wearing his Witcher armor with a tight-lipped frown pulling down the corners of his mouth. His golden eyes lit up when he spotted Jaskier. 

They were so obviously in love. Melitele save them. Roach pushed the bard towards their Witcher with a rough thrust of her nose between his shoulder blades. He stumbled forward and nearly fell, but Geralt caught him. They stood together like that, gazing in each other's eyes, for way longer than they probably intended. Roach watched feeling rather pleased with herself. 

"Everything okay here?" Jaskier asked, voice a bit too breathy. 

Geralt's expression softened, and he breathed in deep through his nose. Everyone knew he was scenting the bard, but no one mentioned it. After another long moment, they drew apart. The Witcher schooled his face into a blank mask. Roach glared at the fucking idiot. 

"It's fine. He hasn't given me any trouble," Geralt answered. "And you?" 

Jaskier lifted his lute case. "Got everything I need." 

"Good. Come inside." Geralt motioned towards the nearby barn. "Roach, I've set you up with some oats and water. Help yourself. I'll be back later to make sure you're settling in." 

The horses tossed her head and trotted over towards the barn. She may be healing nicely, but the continual walking had worn her down, and she was ready for a nice nap. Before entering the barn, she glanced back at her riders. They were just entering the cabin, Geralt's hand on Jaskier's shoulder. Roach gave a pleased snicker and went to check out her new temporary living space. 

The barn was old but well maintained. She recognized her reins and saddle perched over one of the stalls. Next to it was an open door leading into a stall covered in a thick layer of fresh straw. She smelled the oats before she saw them. Roach breathed in the scent letting her eyelids droop closed as her mind grew hazy with delight. Geralt really was the best. 

-

Several nights later, Geralt came out to the barn alone and leaned against Roach's stall wall, arms crossed over his chest, a familiar closed-off expression on his face. She knew he was thinking about Jaskier. About what he had said when the man was still in his wolf form. Roach wanted to tell him that all they had to do was communicate and be honest with each other. It would work out if they gave it a chance, but she was left with staring at him judgingly through a mouthful of oats without the ability to speak. 

He crossed his ankles and let his head rest against the wall with a dull _thunk_. "I don't know what to do, Roach," he said. 

She kept on chewing, gaze boring a hole in his chest. _Yes, you do._

"Maybe…" he trailed off. 

Roach could be patient when she wanted to be, and this conversation required a hell of a lot of patience. So, she swallowed and dug back into the bucket, distracted momentarily by the pleasant smell of honeyed oats. Honestly, if humans just ate oats, all their problems would melt away. She was sure of it. 

"Maybe I should tell him…" Geralt scrubbed a hand over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

Yes. That had to be the answer. If Roach could just figure out how to get all humans everywhere to eat a few damn sweetened oats, then they would stop fighting and dying and throwing rotten food at her rider. Hmm. She would need a distributor. There were some very bountiful fields near Toussaint that she could probably figure out how to buy from with Jaskier's help. She knew for a fact he was a Viscount thanks to his tendency towards midnight chattering in her stall. Though, whether Geralt was aware, was an entirely different story. 

Something caught her eye, and Roach saw Jaskier exit the nearby cabin. The bard looked like he needed some fresh air. 

"Tell him that I love him!" Geralt finished his thought. The words ended up as an almost angry shout with the force it took for him to voice them.

The 'L' word caught Roach so off guard that she ended up spraying her mouthful of precious oats all over the stall when she gave a knee-jerk cough of surprise. 

Geralt raised an eyebrow, concern furrowing his brow. "Okay, girl?" 

She nodded and turned her head and studied Jaskier. Geralt had no way of knowing that the other man had been listening in from the cabin door. From his position, the Witcher could not see him, and since Roach could not smell Jaskier, she doubted Geralt could either. The bard was obviously listening, and his eyes had gone wide at the Witcher's last words. After a long moment, Jaskier disappeared back inside, a haunted look on his face that Roach did not understand. He should be happy and not upset. Humans made so little sense. 

None the wiser, the Witcher continued with his slow, laborious conversation of self-discovery. Honestly, Roach was sure every word out of his mouth was a revelation to him as much as the rest of the world. Geralt was many things, but topmost among them was emotionally constipated. She listened, darting glances towards the closed cabin door every few minutes. 

"But what if...if...I tell him and he. Well, what he said when I was a wolf. He said to forget it. But I can't," Geralt's voice was mournful, and he seemed genuinely distressed. 

After seeing Jaskier's unexpected reaction, Roach was beginning to suspect something had happened between them inside the cabin. She had so many questions, but no way to ask them. In the end, she settled on being a metaphorical shoulder for her caretaker to lean on. 

"The last few days I've been trying to give him space. Most of the time I'm just hanging around the mage, Tristan, he's actually quite funny." The Witcher smiled at some memory. "I think we will figure out a way to keep him alive after. Perhaps Yennefer can assist us." 

Roach's ears went flat on her head, and she stomped over to the Witcher to stare dead into his golden eyes, nostrils flaring in pure disgust. _NO! Not that goddamn witch! Never again!_

To her complete shock, Geralt simply waved away her anger. "Yen was never at fault. I was," he said, head bowed. 

The horse took a step back. She wanted to beat some sense into her Witcher but knew that it was an impossible task. He had decided to take the blame for the failed relationship between him and the fucking witch, and that meant nothing short of a miracle would shift it. Roach knew that having Yennefer come clomping back into the picture would set back her rider's budding romance for ages - possibly even years! She would not allow it. There had to be another way.

"I would need to speak with Tristan first. Once he is done saving his sister. The man has many good qualities," Geralt noted with a slow nod. That small smile had returned like he was listening to something funny in his mind. 

The horse narrowed her eyes and then glanced back at the cabin. Secret little smiles about the mage. Jaskier's haunted look at Geralt's profession of love. It was all starting to piece together into a clear picture. Their bard thought Geralt was falling for the magic wielder. Roach rolled her eyes hard enough that it hurt as she figured it out. Of fucking course, Jaskier would jump to the wrong conclusion immediately. Melitele save her from stupid, idiotic, dumbfuck humans! 

Done with their shit for one day, Roach rested her head on Geralt's shoulder for just a moment so that he would not see her leaving as anything against him or his need to talk. Then, after he gave her a knowing pat on the shoulder, she turned on her hooves and bolted out the door. She needed to get away and think for a bit.

She would need to learn more about this mage person, Tristan. Although there was no way to get into the cabin - and even if there were, she would not fit - there may be a way to eavesdrop and get a better idea of what exactly was going on between the three humans inside. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, not gonna lie. The idea of Roach as an oats distributor on the DL had me snort-laughing for like twenty minutes. :P XD. 
> 
> Let me know what you think! And YES we will be seeing mages, a sorceress, and our poor bard all invading Roach's space. Her epic adventure is not quite over. Let me know what you think. <3333


	10. Too Late, My Time Has Come (Sends Shivers Down My Spine)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, fuck Roach's actual life. A sorceress appears and things go predictably to shit. Jaskier and Geralt need to take a class on "The Importance of Emotional Awareness in Communication".... *ahem*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, yeah. Oops. Spent the weekend watching Maricraft with the girlfriend so there was a brief break from, well, literally everything unrelated to people killing other people with digital swords. 😅 The break done did me good so I feel reinvigorated and I'm already through most of the next chapter. Woohoo!!

It turned out that when he was not being interrogated or threatened, Tristan was freaking hilarious. Roach found herself snickering as she listened near the open windows over the next few days. Not only did he have a smart sense of humor, but he was also incredibly kind. There was no way to know how much of that was genuine and how much he was trying to win over his captors, but the horse found herself growing fond of the man. 

Jaskier was closing himself off more from the other two men, his songs growing sadder and his words drying up. The quieter Jaskier got, the more Geralt tried to compensate by spending time with Tristan, feeding the cycle. Roach knew that her Witcher thought their bard was upset with him for knowing Jaskier’s true feelings, but the space he was creating between them was only driving in a wedge that would crack the foundation of their friendship if it continued. 

She had worked too hard to get them back together for it all to go to shit now. 

Besides, something had to be done before Geralt made good on his idea of bringing fucking Yennefer into the mix. 

There were a lot of aspects of the situation to consider. Geralt and Jaskier were in love. Tristan did not deserve to die, and he still had to save his sister. While the traveling trio had survived the initial fight with the mage, all of them had come out of it changed. Roach thought in a more logical way than she had before - it was a realization she had made the night after her transformation - and Geralt seemed more open to expressing his feelings. That was a lot of variables to consider when all a horse wanted to do was get her favorite riders in a bedroll together. 

She knew without a doubt that they would be happy if they could admit their feelings for each other, but their window of opportunity was closing. Every day the time grew closer and closer when they would get back out on the road together. Geralt would lose this little sliver of humanity he had discovered. Roach had zero doubts that once he was back on the Path slaughtering monsters and being spit on by bigoted humans, whatever peace he had found on this mountain would erode. That meant Roach had to move quickly. 

Her eavesdropping had gone so far unnoticed, and she was spending more of her time grazing beneath the tiny windows that gave her glimpses inside the compact cabin. Geralt looked so funny inside, dwarfed by all the small human furniture. More than once, his head had hit one of the cross beams to the horse’s amusement. She was inclined to believe that Tristan’s uncle was part dwarf with just how small-sized all the dimensions were. 

Roach listened as she plotted a way forward for her two wayward lovebirds. 

-

It was the start of their second week together at the cabin, and Roach was resting near one of the open windows. Her stomach was full, and she was lazily brushing away, a rather persistent deer fly when she heard the dreaded words. 

“I’ve mastered the spell,” Tristan said. 

Suddenly all too alert, Roach glanced inside the window. It was too small to fit her head inside, so she settled for turning so that one of her eyes could fully view the room and everyone within. It was the space that the mage used for his magic practice, and it smelled weird. She tried to avoid that window when neither of her riders were near it. However, Geralt was front and center with Tristan’s hand on his forearm. The mage looked relieved and excited. 

“I can now save my sister,” he said. 

A chair scraped across the floor in the other room, and Jaskier appeared in the doorway. His face was too pale, and it looked like he had lost even more weight. Roach needed to get him taking care of himself again. Jaskier’s eyes were fixed on where Tristan’s hand lay across Geralt’s arm. 

“That’s good,” the bard said, voice dry, “so, once you administer the healing spell, we can be gone. Right, Geralt?” 

“Hmmm.” 

Damn. Fuck. Shit! Roach knew that non-committal hum. It meant the Witcher had finally decided what to do about their little mage problem, and Roach was not going to like it. Neither was Jaskier, but by the look on his face, he had no idea that Yennefer’s presence was imminent. Double-shit. 

Roach valiantly resisted the urge to storm around the cabin, come inside, and bite the mage’s nose off. It was a near thing. Her insides boiled with anger at how this man - one she could not even stop herself from liking - had done so much damage in such a short time. 

“Where is your sister? How long will it take to reach her?” Jaskier asked. 

Tristan shook his head. “There is no need to travel anywhere. When I speak the spell here, it will immediately affect her body - heal her. It’s part of the spell. I have a bit of her hair, which will help it know where to go.” 

“When will you be done?” Geralt asked, finally pulling away from the mage’s grip so that he could walk over to the table that held an array of artifacts, herbs, and other things. 

Tristan followed him, and they leaned over the table together, heads bowed close enough to kiss. Roach watched Jaskier’s breath hitch, and her heart lurched in her chest at the pain he must be feeling. Her silly little bard who did not understand his own worth. The horse kept patient, watching. 

“You might...you might want to kill me as soon as I’m done. It will only take a moment,” Tristan said, giving Geralt a long look. “My sister won’t understand what is happening when she comes to find me. I do not want her to hurt you or be hurt by you, Witcher.” 

“About that,” Geralt drawled out the words, rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought we might spare you. If you promised to leave this place and never return.” 

Tristan’s eyes were huge, his whole body tense. “Really?” he asked, voice breaking with hope. 

“Yes,” Geralt said. The Witcher smiled, one of his rare genuine smiles. “I think you’ve more than earned it.” 

Jaskier winced and flinched, half-turning away from the other two men. Roach glared at her Witcher, but she was ignored. The horse was not even sure if they knew she was watching everything with how closely their attention was focused on the mage. 

“Okay, I’m going to say the spell,” Tristan said, sounding giddy with relief. “Everyone remain silent for a moment.” 

His hands moved in a specific set of motions while he spoke a few unintelligible words, and then he set a lock of long red hair on fire. A brilliant white light filled the room momentarily. Roach blinked the stars out of her eyes. She hated magic. 

“It’s done,” Tristan said. He collapsed into one of the chairs seated around the table. “Thank you both. Now, you really must go.” 

Geralt and Jaskier tensed at the sudden chill in Tristan’s voice. The mage shrugged apologetically. 

“It’s only a matter of minutes before my sister is wholly restored to her previous power, and she will come to thank me. I fear that if she finds you here...a Witcher...she’ll...well, she tends to attack first and ask questions later.” 

“What do you mean? Who is your sister?” Jaskier asked, shooting Geralt a worried glance. 

“There’s no time for this! You must run!” Tristan shouted at them. 

The Witcher was silent, studying the mage as if seeing him clearly for the first time. As far as Roach was concerned, Tristan was still not a threat to their safety, but it sounded like his sister might be, and that could only mean trouble. She heard something on the far side of the cabin that sounded suspiciously like footsteps and gave a high pitched neigh to alert her rider’s. 

Geralt was across the room in moments, grabbing his swords from where they had been abandoned against a wall. 

“Jaskier, look after him,” the Witcher directed with a motion towards Tristan. 

“It’s her. My sister,” the mage said, sounding grave. “You should have run when you had the chance, Witcher. I’m sorry.” 

“Shut up!” Jaskier growled dangerously. “Sit there, be quiet, and don’t try anything.”

Her caretaker needed backup. Roach whirled around and ran as fast as she could around the edge of the cabin. The sound of a wordless scream and a familiar animal growl spurred her on more swiftly. The horse nearly lost her footing when she swung around the last corner of the building. 

A woman with long, curly red hair and calculating eyes was throwing spell after spell at Geralt as quickly as her hands could make the signs. He was nimbly avoiding them with tucked rolls and jumps. He would only last so long. Roach needed to find a way to distract the sorceress without getting herself killed in the process. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Roachie. She's got some tough decisions to make on all fronts. Also, I'm totally seeing like a twenty-something-year-old Rowena from Supernatural when I picture this sorceress. She ain't taking no one's shit. 😅 ❤️❤️ 
> 
> Let me know how you liked it!! <3 <3 <3 <3 Much action to come. Mwahahahaha! Told ya'll Roach's Epic Adventure wasn't quite over. ;) Cannot have an epic adventure without at least one magic throwdown. Two is just BETTER.


	11. The Fur-midable Roach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, dear. Roach and magic sitting in a tree... M-U-R-D-E-R-I-N-G each other. Farewell, Tristan. Nice knowing you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your great comments!!! <33333

Roach was in the redhead’s blind spot. If she could just move forward fast enough to reach the woman with her hooves, this could all be over quickly, but Geralt needed to keep her distracted. The Witcher was starting to slow. Roach wished he had been wearing his belt pouch with the potions, but noooo, they had all trusted fucking Tristan and now look where they were at. 

Golden eyes bored into Roach, and she gave a short, sharp head nod. He knew she was ready to strike now. All that remained was to move in for the strike. 

“Stop!” Jaskier’s muffled shout came from the cabin. 

Geralt’s attention faltered for a moment, but it was all the redhead needed to blast him twenty feet into the air with one of her spells. He landed on the ground with a pained moan just as the cabin door opened, and Tristan came spilling out with Jaskier scrambling to pull him back inside. 

“Wait! Sister, wait!” Tristan shouted both palms held out. 

The woman paused, yellow magic swirling around her hands. “Tris? What is the meaning of this?” she asked, her gaze unwavering from where it was focused on the Witcher with pure disdain. 

“They aren’t dangerous...well, I mean...they were going to let me go. I mean...they’re not hurting me,” Tristan stumbled over his explanation, eyes wide. 

Roach supposed it was hard to fully explain their situation in a few words without it sounding awful. The Witcher had taken a contract to kill the mage, after all, and they had been holding the mage hostage for weeks. On its face, things looked terrible. The horse used the lull in the fight to gallop over to her Witcher and stand between him and the sorceress who watched with growing confusion. 

“What is going on, Tris?” she asked. 

There were a few seconds while Tristan opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, his hands flapping uselessly as he tried to formulate a response that would stop his sister. Roach saw the second the redhead thought ‘fuck it’ and chose to send her spell anyway. Geralt was on his feet again. The horse had just enough time to grab the back of his shirt between her teeth and jump, pulling them both out of the line of fire and over towards the cabin. The ground where Roach had stood a moment before exploded, sending up clumps of dirt and grass. 

The bitch was not playing. 

Roach used about forty percent of her power to kick Geralt far out of the way. She hated to hurt her Witcher, but he needed to be out of the fucking way. He had landed on his side in front of Tristan, who was helping Geralt to his feet. 

Good, he was safe. Roach ran towards the sorceress. She was already powering up another spell. The horse feinted right and then zagged left just in time to miss being split in two by the line of sheer power that sliced through the air where she had been moments before. 

A few more feet and she would be in striking range. Instead of running away, the redheaded woman dug in her heels and began reciting something long and complicated. 

“Gerra, no!” 

Roach ignored Tristan’s shout and took a flying lung towards the woman, hooves ready to knock the smile right off her beautiful face. Then a spell hit Roach from the side, and the horse felt herself tumbling through the air. The sorceress screamed in anger as magic exploded around them both. Roach felt her body curl in mid-air and right itself. She landed on her feet hard enough to knock the feeling out of her toes. 

She had toes. Fuck. Roach glanced down and saw that she had clawed feet, and everything around her had tripled in size. She was somewhat feline if the serpentine shudder that ran through her spine and flicking tail was anything to go by, but there were strange protrusions at each joint like little horns. 

“Stop! Gerra! Just stop!” Tristan shouted at his sister. 

The redhead looked between the mage and the two men standing on either side of him. Her nose wrinkled in distaste when she saw the Witcher moving forward, and suddenly the woman had a knife in her hand. It was small, but very sharp if the glint on the silver blade was anything to go by. 

Before the woman could launch herself at either of her riders, Roach balled up all her energy into her hind legs and sprang forward from a low crouch. She landed on the woman’s back and dug nails into her unprotected shoulders. The hand holding the knife spasmed open, and the weapon disappeared from sight. 

“Get off of me!” the sorceress screamed in pain and anger, helplessly struggling to pull Roach away by her fur. 

Roach clung tighter, her whole body flush between the woman’s shoulder blades, her back claws digging into the woman’s spine deep enough to draw blood. 

“Everyone, stop!” Tristan shouted, his voice aided with some kind of magic that made the woman freeze, and Roach loosen her hold the barest fraction. 

There was a compulsion to obey him, but it was weak. Too weak. Within moments the redhead was once again straining to detach Roach from her back. Tristan ran forward, leaving Jaskier and Geralt behind, and as soon as he was close enough, the mage grabbed the woman’s hands on his own. 

“Shh. Gerra, please, calm. Let me explain.” Tristan glanced over his shoulder at Geralt. “Can you call off your….” his voice trailed off as he apparently could not figure out what Roach had been shifted into. “Animal?”

“Roach. C’mere,” Geralt called. 

Like hell she was going to leave. The mage could not be trusted, and the woman was ready to murder them all. Roach gave a bone-chilling shriek of _fuck no, you great big asshole, I'm staying right here!_

“Gerra is going to stop now, aren’t you?” Tristan spoke soothingly to Roach with a single warning glance to his sister at the end. 

After a long, tense moment, the redhead nodded sharply and dropped her arms. “Fine.” 

Roach released her grip and jumped to the ground, glaring up at the woman with a growl of distrust. She prowled in a wide circle around the two siblings, allowing her circuit to bring her close to Geralt so she could check him for injuries. He was leaning heavily on Jaskier and had his arm wrapped around one side. It was where she had kicked him. Roach hoped to Melitele that she had not broken any of his ribs. Even if the Witcher healed quicker than most humans, she hated to be responsible for causing him undue pain. Jaskier was clinging to the Witcher, fingers white where they clutched his shoulder and hip. 

Satisfied that they would be alright, Roach focused the entirety of her attention on the magic users who had some kind of wordless conversation composed of facial movements. Roach kept close to the ground, tail flicking nervously, and she kept moving around the pair, ready to pounce again if necessary. 

“Explain. Everything. Now,” Gerra ordered her brother, each word emphasized sharply. 

He ran a hand through his hair and shuffled his feet, glancing back towards Geralt. “The nearby town caught wind of a magician in the area, and they contracted the Witcher to -no!” 

Gerra’s hands were back up and aimed at Geralt, magic spewing out of them before Tristan could finish explaining. The mage stepped in front of his sister, and the magic disappeared instantly. 

“They had every reason to want me dead. I...I used my magic against them,” Tristan admitted this so softly Roach doubted anyone but herself and the woman could have heard “I hurt them, gave them every reason to fear my magic and then they spared me. I owe them the same. When they knew why I was here - that I was working to save your life - they let me. They had me. They could have killed me and been done with it. Then you would be dead too. The Witcher spared us both.” 

Gerra looked over her brother’s shoulder and gave Geralt an assessing look. Her eyes were still pinched and wary, but a softness had entered her expression. She patted her brother on the arm and then addressed the others. 

“I am leaving with my brother, and you are not going to stop us,” she said clearly. 

Tristan opened his mouth, but she glared at him, and he shut it again. “If you truly have spared both of our lives, then take your time here. No one else knows of this cabin. You can use it until you move on. However, Witcher, if we meet again, I will not hesitate to kill you.” 

Geralt nodded. “Sounds fair.” His voice lowered dangerously. “And likewise, sorceress.” 

She nodded, and after a brief discussion with Tristan, the redhead opened a portal, and they both walked through. It disappeared a moment later, leaving debris floating momentarily in the air before it settled back onto the ground. Roach gave a screech of horror. They had left her as a cat! Or something near enough like a cat. _The motherfuckers!_

Roach ran over to where the portal had been and let out a long yowl. Geralt approached and scooped her into his arms though she was much larger than a housecat, so she barely fit. He rested his forehead on her fur, and she gave a discontented meowl. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A-heh. So, THAT happened. :P I kinda feel like I suck at action scenes.  
> Let me know what you think <3333


	12. Roach, the Original Fangirl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "These two men were going to be the death of her, Roach just knew it. Death by unresolved sexual tension. Other people's unresolved sexual tension. How was this even real life?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aloha. We're winding down. One chapter left, folks! We did it! Or, more accurately, ROACH did it. :D 
> 
> Thank you, everyone, for your great comments! I <3 you.

They had decided to give it a few days in case the magic simply wore off. However, twenty-four hours into her life as a not-quite-a-cat and Roach was spitting nails. Any time either of the men got close, she lashed out with razor-sharp claws. There was something about this form that made her feel angry all the time. It felt like her actual fur was angry. Could fur even have emotions? Roach was not sure, but whatever she had been turned into had her in a mood. 

She had holed herself up in the master bedroom of the cabin, so Jaskier and Geralt were sharing the spare room. At least that was going to plan. The men were being forced together after so many misunderstandings. Roach could not find it in herself to feel bad about it. Also, it seemed to be working. Jaskier was singing more. His clear voice was echoing through the tiny cabin like a songbird. She stretched out to the sound of his newest ballad, lithe body taking up most of the space that made up the top of the large shelving unit next to the master bed. 

Whatever her form was, it was solitary, territorial, and liked to live on top of tall shelves. Roach had never been that fond of heights, and after that terrible fall into the ravine, she hated them even more. She felt a bit queasy being up so high even as the thought of coming down sent her into an angry yowling fit. 

Ugh. Fucking magic. 

-

By the dawn of day three everyone was miserable. Roach had finally coaxed her traitorous body back to ground level and trying to convince her skittish feet that going into the main room for something to eat would not get her killed. The longer she stayed in this form, the harder it got to remember that her riders were safe. 

When she came out of the master bedroom, all of the fur along her spine stood on end. She felt fear rattling around in her stomach. Geralt knelt down near the fireplace, hunching in his shoulders to look as small and nonthreatening as possible. It helped. Roach meowed hungrily. 

Jaskier watched the exchange from his seat at the table where he was eating. 

"Throw her some meat," Geralt said. 

The bard took a few scraps of dried meat off his plate and threw them in Roach's direction. For a moment, her entire body lit up with alarm, but as soon as she smelled the meat, she lunged forward and started gnawing on it. Purrs rose unbidden from her chest, and Geralt chuckled. 

"What is she?" Jaskier asked. 

Roach listened as she ate, ears perked in Geralt's direction. She wanted to know, as well. That way, she would know what to stay well away from if she ever got turned back into her usual horse self. 

"A lightning leopard. They carry a low level of electrical charge in their body. Don't go swimming with one," Geralt replied. 

Jaskier smiled. "Speaking from experience?" he teased. 

"Hmmm. They are highly territorial and rarely seen. I only know of one breeding pair on the Continent though they could be extinct by now. That was a long time ago," the Witcher admitted. 

There was a slight hum that seemed to be embedded in her bones, and every once in a while, the protrusions around her joints would spark. Roach guessed that was the electricity. Huh. Well, at least she could shock things if they pissed her off. She happily chewed on the meat, the gnawing motion soothing her frayed nerves. Maybe lightning leopards had to hunt often to feel calm.

"I'm going to use my xenovox," Geralt decided. "I don't think it's healthy to have her switched for so long. Not as a lightning leopard." 

As much as Roach hated Yennefer's guts, she had to agree. She did not want to hurt her friends, and the urge to claw Jaskier's kind smile off his gentle face was hard to fight most of the time. Roach sighed heavily and rolled over onto her back even though the vulnerable position sent shivers of fear up her spine. Her logical brain knew she was safe. 

Roach missed oats. 

_Please, fix this?_ She meowed plaintively at her caretaker. Geralt seemed to get the message. He nodded.

"Jaskier, please fetch me the xenovox," he asked. 

The bard stood and disappeared into the spare bedroom. He returned a moment later with the small silver box and tossed it to the Witcher, who easily caught it. 

"Yennefer. We need some help turning back a transformation spell," he spoke evenly and loud enough to be heard if the box on her end was inside luggage. 

There was a very long pause, but all three of them were patient. Eventually, there was the sound of a disembodied throat clearing. 

“Jaskier?” Yennefer asked.

"Roach," Geralt corrected. 

"Huh. I have something to finish up, and then I'll be there. Give me a few hours." 

"Hmmm." 

The Witcher let the box rest on his knee. He was watching Roach with a furrowed brow. She figured he was just as worried as she was that somehow bits of this form would stick with her the way she thought differently after being a human. Melitele, she hoped not. 

-

Roach had fled back into the master bedroom to hide once again on top of the shelf. She heard the sound of a portal opening and growled. When it came right down to it, she did not want to see the witch. In her current form, she might shock the woman. Roach found that idea very appealing. Her body was moving before she could finish the thought. 

She snuck into the other room, keeping to the shadows and edges of furniture, her tail flicking back and forth as she slowly approached where Yennefer was talking to Geralt in hushed tones. Roach was disheartened to see Jaskier leaning against the doorframe to the spare room, hunched over and face pale. This was the first time all four of them had been together since the mountain top at the end of that disastrous dragon hunt years ago. Awkward tension thickened the air. 

"There you are, Roach," Geralt said. 

She glared up at him with her best frown. He seemed undisturbed by it. Yennefer glowered down at Roach and gave a heavy sigh. 

"A lightning leopard, really?" she asked the room. 

"Can you help?" Geralt asked. 

Yennefer nodded. "Get it outside, and I'll change it back." 

Roach hissed, flashing very long fangs at the witch. She was not an "it." Yennefer rolled her eyes and wholly ignored the posturing. Geralt walked over and slowly, cautiously lifted Roach into his arms. A spark of electricity shot up his arm, and the Witcher hissed. Roach winced in sympathy and butted her head under his chin in apology. He ran his fingers through her thick fur in a soothing rhythm as they made their way outside the claustrophobic cabin. 

Once outside, Geralt let Roach leap down to the ground where she sat meowling miserably. Yennefer spoke a few words and made a sign in the air. The magic hit Roach like a wall, and she was thrown backward, tumbling head over tail before coming to a rest in a jumbled heap. She yowled in protest. 

"Yen?" Geralt asked, eyes wide with worry. "Don't hurt her." 

"I'm getting it. There was a variation to the spell, that's all. Give me a second," the witch said, sounding distracted. 

Jaskier had come outside to join them, standing well apart from the other two. Roach wanted to be human again for just a moment to wrap her bard up in a hug and then yell obscenities at her oblivious Witcher. These two men were going to be the death of her, Roach just knew it. Death by unresolved sexual tension. _Other people's_ unresolved sexual tension. How was this even real life, she wondered for the millionth time. 

"I think I got it now," Yennefer said, seconds before a second wave of magic zinged through the air. 

The world shifted sickeningly around Roach, and then she was the right height again. A quick look showed her horse body. The wound on her side was almost completely healed over with pink skin. She did a full body shake to rid herself of the anger that stubbornly clung from her last form. 

In a move that Roach entirely blamed on her previous form's cactus-like temperament, she trotted forward until she was in Yennefer's space and readied to nip her right on the arm when Roach felt familiar, delicate fingers digging into her mane. 

"It's alright, girl. Shhh," Jaskier said gently. "C'mon, Roach. Let's get you some oats." 

She let him guide her away towards the barn. Geralt and Yennefer had a quiet conversation behind them, and then there was the distinct _whooshing_ sound of a portal opening and closing. Jaskier walked her into her stall and topped off the oat bucket before grabbing a mane comb and starting on her tail. The gentle, even sweeps of the brush soothed Roach's frayed nerves. 

"You've had a tough time of it, haven't you brave dear," Jaskier said softly, voice just above a whisper. "I'm thinking of a song for you. _Roach's Epic Adventure_ is the working title." He broke off into a song that made Roach sound like the mount of a god. It was a bit much, but she enjoyed the attention. 

Once it fell silent again, Roach noticed that the bard looked better than he had before Gerra disappeared with her brother. Maybe the time together in the spare room was doing them some good after all. 

"I thought we had something, Roach," Jaskier said quietly. He sounded forlorn and weary. 

Her ears flickered back to indicate she was listening. 

"Me and Geralt. I always thought we had a spark between us. I felt it," he insisted, "but after seeing him with Tristan, I realized that it's just who he is, you know. Geralt doesn't even realize the effect he has on the people around him. He is the sun in our sky. Fiery, overwhelming, and bringing light into the darkness." 

Roach gave a slow nod. Jaskier's poetry was right. Her Witcher was definitely her light—a hot-headed moron of a light that kept everything safe and warm. 

"Before we met, I thought I was going to be stuck alone. I mean, sure some women warmed my bed and some men, but that was just passing. That was a banked fire compared to the way I feel when Geralt is around." 

Roach stared at her bard in wonder. She huffed in agreement and shifted so that she could nuzzle his chest with her nose. He grasped her head gently and rested his forehead on hers. 

"Is it too late to get that back?" he asked, voice cracking. 

A shadow fell over them, and Jaskier looked, tears welling in his eyes. 

"No, it's not," Geralt said. 

Roach forgave him for sneaking up on them when her Witcher walked over to Jaskier and brushed away a stray tear with his thumb. Then Geralt leaned down and kissed their bard. Jaskier returned it, and soon they were making out heavily against the wall of her stall. Roach felt like her chest was going to burst because she was so happy for them. _Fina-fucking-ly._

The men broke apart with loud gasps for air, and Jaskier's face was lit up with a brilliant smile. "We should take this inside," the bard said. 

"Hmm." 

Geralt let Jaskier lead him out of the barn. Roach watched them go with a swell of pride. After so very many years of pining and then the more recent setbacks, it was a miracle and one the horse was not about to look at too closely. Her friends were in love, and everything was perfect and right in the world. 

Roach huffed in contentment and settled down for a good, solid nap. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think. One chapter to go!
> 
> Ah, for anyone wondering. This is a lightning leopard. SO FREAKING CUUUUTE. I took inspiration from it and then altered it somewhat. (https://fantasy-forest-story.fandom.com/wiki/Lightning_Leopard)
> 
> UPDATE: fixed a lot of errors. Sorry about those 🙏😩


	13. Roach's Epic Adventure: A Song by Jaskier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are. Short, but sweet ending. <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked it. Sorry about any errors and such. Went back and fixed a few of them. Ooops. 
> 
> <333333\. All the love to everyone who has commented as they read. Comments are life for us fic writers. I appreciate you all. <333

Something was happening in the cabin. If the energetic yelling and sound of furniture cracking under some form of strain was anything to go by, Roach had succeeded in getting her two idiot friends together at last. Thank Melitele for small miracles. 

Everything seemed to have slotted back into place. Roach was back to her horse form, thank the gods. Her friends were very vocally happy over in the cabin, and not a single magic wielder was left on the mountain. All that remained was collecting the contract coin from the town and a return to the Path. People needed their help, and their break had been abnormally long as it was so Roach knew they would be gone by morning. 

She decided to spend her last night out under the stars, staring out into the unknown universe spread out above and the moonlit valley below. It was a beautiful view, and Roach decided to cherish it for Jaskier since the bard was otherwise engaged. She ate grass and enjoyed the feel of four solid hooves on the frosty ground. 

-

Roach had been right. The moment dawn broke over the horizon, Geralt was saddling her up and adjusting their traveling bags to keep her injured side from being hurt. Jaskier looked tired but happy. Lines that Roach had barely noticed were smoothed away, leaving him looking ten years younger than he had the day before. Geralt walked beside him as the three traveled down the mountain path in comfortable silence. 

Jaskier was skipping along beside Roach with a massive smile on his face, blue eyes sparkling. “Well, dear heart, it looks like we’re back on the road for good,” he said. “Are you ready? Side feeling better?” 

She nodded her head, huffing a bemused breath at him. _Of course, I’m ready to kick some monster ass!_

His grin widened. “That’s the spirit, girl.” 

Geralt watched them with a softness to his golden gaze that was often absent. Roach wondered how long it would last once they were back in impolite society, but she found it suited her Witcher. She had never known him when he was truly young, but in all her years traveling beside him, Roach had never seen him look so relaxed - not even when he was joined at the hip with Yennefer. This relationship was good for them both just like she knew it would be, and the horse found herself glowing on the inside with a heavy warmth. Her people were happy. 

-

The contract was a little tricky to close with the Alderman. However, with Jaskier as a witness, they were able to come to an agreement, and a hefty coin purse got them restocked for the long trip out to their next contract that the Alderman had heard being offered several days ride south. Roach was glad to get moving again finally. She would not miss that mountain. Hopefully, they stayed to the plains for a while. 

They were not even a mile out of town before Jaskier pulled out his lute and started serenading Geralt with _Roach’s Epic Adventure_. By the time the chorus came around again, the Witcher was nodding his head along with the beat and muttering a few of the catchier words. Jaskier glowed with delight at the reaction, and he pecked the Witcher on the cheek with a quick kiss between lines. 

Roach gave a contented sigh and let her head droop, eyes hooded. They had all come so far in such a short time, and it was glorious to see. Feeling both happy and relieved to see her riders feeling the same, the horse let her thoughts wander into daydreams. 

Sure, there would be setbacks and struggles on the road ahead. Of course, there would be, Roach was not naive, but she had faith in her Witcher and bard. As long as the three of them stuck together, nothing could keep them down for long. Roach straightened, holding her head high, ears forward. There was a whole world out there just waiting to hear about her tale. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's All, Folks! 
> 
> :D I had a blast sharing this crazy story with you.


End file.
